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THE 

I?  * 


WESTERN   WORLD; 

OR, 

TRAVELS  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 
IN  1846-47: 


EXHIBITING  THEM  IN  THEIR  LATEST   DEVELOPMENT, 
SOCIAL,  POLITICAL,  AND  INDUSTRIAL; 


INCLUDING  A   CHAPTER  ON 


CALIFORNIA. 


BY    ALEX.    MACKAY,  ESQ., 

OF  THE  MIDDLE  TEMPLE,  BARRISTER  AT  LAW. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 
VOL.  II. 


FROM  THE  SECOND  LONDON  EDITION. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

LEA    &    BLANCHARD, 

1849. 


5 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

From  Charleston  to  Milledgeville , 13 

CHAPTER  II. 

From  Milledgeville  to  Macon Railway  and  Telegraphic  Systems  of  the 

United  States        34 

CHAPTER  III. 
From  Macon  to  Mobile  and  New  Orleans 61 

CHAPTER  IV. 
New  Orleans 78 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Valley  of  the  Mississippi — From  New  Orleans  to  Vicksburg  ...       99 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Valley  of  the  Mississippi 121 

CHAPTER  VII. 

From  St.  Louis  to  Louisville,  Cincinnati,  and  Pittsburg — Mining  interests 
of  the  United  States 138 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
From  Pittsburg  to  Niagara 155 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  IX. 

PAGE 

Artificial  Irrigation  of  the  United  States. — Rivalry  between  Canada  and 
New  York  for  the  Carrying-trade  of  the  North-west — The  Navigation 
Laws 176 

CHAPTER   X. 
From  Buffalo  to  Utica,  and  thence  to  Montreal  by  the  St.  Lawrence    .     .     192 

CHAPTER  XI. 

From  Montreal  to  Saratoga,  Albany,  and  West  Point — Military  Spirit  and 

Military  Establishments  of  the  United  States 209 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Education  and  Literature  in  the  United  States 228 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Religion  in  the  United  States 243 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Lowell. — Manufactures  and  Manufacturing  Intesest  of  the  United  States       261 

CHAPTER  XV. 
American  Character. — Physical  Condition  of  Society  in  America    .     .     .     283 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  Peep  into  the  Future 298 


A  CHAPTER  os  CALIFORXTA, 309 


THE  WESTERN  WORLD; 

OR, 

TRAVELS    IN   THE    UNITED    STATES 

IN     1846-7. 


CHAPTER  I. 

FROM   CHARLESTON  TO  MILLEDGEVILLE. 

Charleston— Its  Plan— Its  Appearance  from  the  Bay.— Interior  of  the  City— Its 
Climate  and  Health. — Hotels. — A  Practical  Joke. — Society  in  Charleston. — 
Negroes  in  Charleston. — Export  and  Import  Trade  of  Charleston. — Fluctua- 
tion of  its  Trade. — Conspicuous  part  played  by  South  Carolina  in  the  Politics 
of  the  Union. — The  Tariff  question — Dangerous  Crisis  to  which  it  led. — Mr. 
Calhoun  and  Mr.  M'Duffie. — Threat  of  a  Dissolution  of  the  Union — Its  effect 
upon  Congress  and  the  Country. — Route  from  Charleston  to  Columbia, 
Augusta  and  Milledgeville. — Aspect  of  the  Country  between  Charleston  and 
Columbia. — The  Sand-hills. — The  "Pine-barrens." — Position  and  Appear- 
ance of  Columbia. — From  Charleston  to  Augusta. — A  Countryman  and  a 
Conversation. — The  Celts  and  the  Saxons. — The  British  Government. — The 
Savannah. — Augusta. — Milledgeville. 

LIKE  most  other  American  towns,  Charleston  is  built  on  a  very 
regular  plan.  The  narrow  tongue  of  land  on  which  it  stands  is  low 
and  flat ;  the  streets  which  run  across  it  from  the  Ashley  to  the 
Cooper  being  intersected  at  right  angles  by  others  which  lie  north 
and  south  in  the  direction  of  its  length.  The  breadth  of  the  sile  of 
the  capital  of  the  south,  for  it  is  the  largest  city  and  most  important 
seaport  lying  between  the  Potomac  and  the  Mississippi,  is  but  little 
more  than  a  mile,  the  length  to  which  it  has  extended  in  a  northerly 
direction  being  under  two  miles.  It  is  situated  so  low  that  portions 
of  it  have  occasionally  been  inundated,  when  a  long  continuance  of 
easterly  winds  have  caused  an  unusual  accumulation  of  water  in  the 
bay,  and  rains  in  the  interior  have  swollen  the  rivers  which  flank  it 

VOL.  II.— 2 


14  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

on  either  side.  The  bay,  which  is  about  six  miles  long,  has  an  average 
width  of  little  more  than  two  miles,  opening  upon  the  Atlantic  almost 
due  east  from  the  city.  It  is  not  so  well  sheltered  from  easterly 
winds  as  that  of  Boston,  to  say  nothing  of  New  York ;  and  during 
the  prevalence  of  gales  from  that  quarter,  the  entrance  to  it  is  difficult, 
vessels  of  large  burden  being  almost  exclusively  confined,  on  entering 
it,  to  one  narrow  channel  across  the  bar  at  its  mouth,  the  greatest 
depth  of  water  in  this  channel  not  exceeding  seventeen  feet  at  high 
tide.  It  is  well  situated  for  defence,  the  harbour  being  guarded, 
like  that  of  New  York,  with  defensive  works  both  at  its  entrance 
and  on  islands  within  it. 

Charleston  is  a  pleasing  looking  town,  but  by  no  means  a  striking 
one.  Its  aspect  on  the  bay,  from  the  flatness  of  its  site,  is  very 
unimposing.  It  was  a  hot  and  sultry  morning  when  I  approached; 
not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring,  and  the  waters  of  the  bay  were  as 
calm  and  unruffled  as  a  mill-pond.  Before  me  lay  the  city  baking, 
as  it  were,  in  the  fierce  sunshine.  But  even  then  it  had  a  cool  and 
comfortable  look  about  it ;  for,  from  the  lowness  of  its  position,  it 
gave  one  the  idea  of  being  up  to  the  knees  in  water.  Like  Phila- 
delphia, it  presents  one  front  to  the  harbour,  which  screens  the  rest  of 
the  city  from  view :  being  in  this  respect  totally  unlike  Boston,  New 
York,  or  Baltimore,  all  which  show  to  much  greater  advantage,  rising 
as  they  do  in  graceful  undulations  from  the  water. 

The  interior  of  the  city  is  both  pretty  and  peculiar.  It  is  wanting 
in  the  grandeur  and  substantiality  which  characterize  the  northern 
towns,  but  it  has  adapted  its  appearance  to  the  necessities  of  its 
position;  its  architecture  being  chiefly  designed  to  obviate  the 
inconveniences  of  its  climate.  A  tolerably  large  proportion  of  it  is 
built  of  brick,  the  bulk  of  the  town  however  being  constructed  of 
wood.  The  private  dwellings  are  almost  all  wooden  edifices,  not 
lofty,  but  elegant,  being  in  most  cases  provided  with  light,  airy  and 
graceful  verandas,  extending  in  some  instances  to  the  roof.  They 
are  generally  painted  of  a  dazzling  white,  with  green  Venetian 
blinds,  the  verandas  b'eing  sometimes  adorned  with  vines,  and  at 
others  merely  painted  green.  In  the  suburbs  particularly  they  are 
embowered  in  foliage,  with  which  the  spotless  white  of  the  walls 
forms  a  cool  and  pleasing  contrast.  Until  recently,  indeed,  most 
of  the  streets  of  Charleston  were  provided  with  trees,  which  gratefully 
interposed  between  its  inhabitants  and  the  fierce  heats  of  mid-day. 
They  have  been  lately  removed,  however,  from  several  of  the 
principal  streets,  the  corporation  sacrificing  to  some  crotchet  of  its 
own  that  which  was  both  an  ornament  and  a  convenience  to  the 
city.  With  the  exception  of  the  few  busy  thoroughfares  which  it 
possesses,  the  rest  of  the  city  is  more  like  an  extended  village  than 
a  large  town;  the  appearance  of  any  one  part  of  it,  save  and  excepting 
its  profusion  of  verandas,  very  much  resembling  that  of  the  lovely 


THE   WESTERN  WORLD.  15 

little  interior  towns  so  frequently  met  with  in  New  England,  Penn- 
sylvania, and  New  York. 

Charleston  is  by  no  means  the  healthiest  of  places,  although  many 
of  its  inhabitants  would  fain  induce  you  to  think  so.  It  is  superior, 
however,  in  point  of  salubrity  to  much  of  the  country  which  lies 
immediately  behind  it,  its  contiguity  to  the  sea  depriving  its  atmo- 
sphere of  much  of  the  deleterious  rniasma  with  which  that  of  the 
interior  is  laden.  Still  it  is  a  place  to  which  the  stranger  has  to 
become  well  acclimated,  ere  he  can  sojourn  in  it  for  any  length  of 
time  with  safety;  and  the  ordeal  through  which  he  has  to  pass  in  so 
acclimating  himself  is  perilous  as  well  as  unpleasant.  Its  natives 
and  regular  residents  are  seldom  the  victims  of  the  acute  diseases 
which  it  inflicts  upon  the  stranger ;  but,  judging  from  their  appearance, 
they  look  as  if  they  had  all  once  been  very  ill,  and  were  in  a  state  of 
chronic  convalescence.  You  meet  many  looking  prematurely  old 
in  Charleston,  but  few  such  as  could  properly  be  designated  old 
men.  The  best  race  of  men  produced  by  South  Carolina  inhabit 
the  upland  country,  sometimes  called  the  Ridge,  about  150  miles 
back  from  the  coast.  They  are  a  taller,  stronger,  and  in  every  respect 
a  better  developed  race  than  their  fellow-countrymen  on  the  coast, 
vieing,  in  most  cases,  in  health  and  proportions,  with  the  sturdy 
farmers  of  Pennsylvania  or  Ohio. 

Charleston  not  being  the  seat  of  government,  its  principal  buildings, 
with  one  or  two  exceptions,  such  as  two  small  arsenals,  are  of  a  local 
and  commercial,  instead  of  a  political  and  national  character.  The 
City  Hall  and  the  Exchange,  both  ante-revolutionary  in  the  date  of 
their  erection,  are  about  the  finest  edifices  of  which  it  can  boast. 
Although  not  strictly  of  a  public  character,  the  hotels  here,  as  else- 
where in  the  United  States,  may  be  classed  with  the  public  buildings, 
some  of  those  in  Charleston  being  on  a  scale  inferior  to  none  else- 
where, even  in  Boston,  New  York,  or  New  Orleans.  None  of  them 
have  the  architectural  pretensions  of  the  Astor  House  in  New  York; 
it  is  their  vastness  and  excellent  management  that  strike  the  stranger 
with  astonishment. 

Having  had  but  little  rest  on  board  the  steamer  the  previous  night,! 
slept  soundly  in  one  of  them  the  first*  night  ashore.  How  far  into 
the  morning  my  slumbers  would  have  carried  me  I  know  not,  but  at 
a  pretty  early  hour  I  was  aroused  by  a  noise  which,  for  the  few 
moments  elapsing  between  deep  sleep  and  perfect  consciousness,  I 
took  to  be  the  ringing  of  the  sleigh-bells  in  the  streets  of  a  Canadian 
town.  I  was  soon  undeceived ;  the  intense  heat,  even  at  that  early 
hour,  driving  all  notions  of  winter,  sleighs,  and  sleigh-bells,  out  of 
my  head.  But  though  in  Carolina,  there  was  still  the  jingling  of 
the  bells  to  remind  me  of  Canada.  Every  bell  in  the  house  seemed 
to  have  become  suddenly  bewitched  but  my  own;  and  anxious  to 
know  what  was  the  matter,  I  soon  made  it  join  in  the  chorus.  Even 


16  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

in  the  ringing  of  belis  one  can  trace  to  some  extent  the  difference 
•between  characters;  and,  for  some  time,  I  amused  myself,  watching 
the  different  manifestations  of  temper  on  the  part  of  those  who 
pulled  them,  which  they  indicated.  Some  rung  gently,  as  if  those 
pulling  them  shrunk  from  being  troublesome;  others  authoritatively, 
as  if  the  ringers  would  be  obeyed  at  once  and  without  another  sum- 
mons; and  others  again  angrily,  as  if  they  had  already  been  fre- 
quently pulled  in  vain.  Very  soon  all  became  angry,  some  waxing 
into  a  towering  passion  ;  for  although  all  might  ring,  all  could  not 
possibly  be  answered  at  once.  I  had  brief  time  to  notice  these  things 
ere  the  waiters  were  heard  hurrying  up  and  down  stairs,  and  along 
the  lengthy  wooden  lobbies,  which  echoed  to  their  footsteps. 
Things  now  appeared  to  be  getting  serious,  and  jumping  out  of 
bed  I  opened  my  door  just  as  a  troop  of  black  fellows  were  hurrying 
past,  each  with  a  bucket  of  water  in  his  hand.  I  immediately  in- 
ferred that  the  house  was  on  fire ;  and  as  American  houses  generally 
on  such  occasions,  go  off  like  gun-cotton,  I  sprung  back  into  my 
room,  with  a  view  to  partly  dressing  myself  and  making  my  escape. 
A  universal  cry  for  "  Boots,"  however,  mingled  with  every  variety  of 
imprecation  on  that  functionary's  head,  from  the  simple  ejaculation  to 
the  elaborate  prayer,  soon  convinced  me  that  the  case  was  less  urgent 
than  I  had  supposed  ;  and,  on  further  investigation,  it  turned  out 
that  the  unusual  hubbub  had  been  created  by  some  one  playing 
overnight  the  old  and  clumsy  trick  of  changing  the  boots  before 
they  were  taken  from  the  bedroom  doors  to  be  cleaned,  so  that,  on 
being  replaced  in  the  morning,  each  guest  was  provided  with  his 
neighbour's  instead  of  his  own.  I  had  lain  down  the  happy  possessor 
of  a  pair  of  Wellingtons,  which,  in  the  morning,  I  found  converted 
into  unsightly  highlovvs.  Other  transformations  as  complete  and 
as  awkward  took  place,  the  dandy  finding  at  his  door  the  brogues  of 
a  clodhopper  from  the  North-west,  who  was  attempting,  next  door, 
with  a  grin,  to  squeeze  his  toes  into  his  indignant  neighbour's  patent 
leather  boots.  After  some  search  my  Wellingtons  were  discovered 
in  another  hall,  standing  at  a  lady's  door,  whose  shoes  had  been 
placed  before  that  ofa  Texan  volunteer,  on  his  way  to  Mexico  and 
glory.  It  was  not  the  good  fortune  of  all  so  readily  to  recover  their 
property,  the  majority  of  the  guests  having  to  breakfast  in  slippers, 
during  which  the  unreclaimed  boots  and  shoes  were  collected 
together  in  the  great  hall,  each  man  afterwards  selecting,  as  he  best 
could,  his  own  property  from  the  heap.  Until  the  nature  of  the 
joke  was  discovered,  the  poor  Boots  had  a  narrow  escape  of  his  life; 
and  it  was  amusing  to  witness  the  chuckle  of  the  black  waiters,  as, 
on  discovering  the  trick,  they  quietly  returned,  with  unemptied 
buckets,  to  their  respective  posts. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  find  in  the  Unjted  States  or  elsewhere  a 
more   agreeable  or   hospitable  people  than  those    of   Charleston. 


THE    WESTERN  WORLD.  17 

They  have  neither  the  pretension  of  the  Bostonian,  nor  the  frigid 
bearing  which  the  Philadelphia!!  at  first  assumes,  about  them,  being 
characterized  by  a  frankness  and  urbanity  of  manner  which  at  once 
prepossesses  the  stranger  in  their  favour  whilst  they  put  him  com- 
pletely at  his  ease.  This  delightful  phase  of  Charleston  society  is 
much  to  be  attributed  to  its  constant  intercourse  with  the  interior; 
South  Carolina,  in  its  social  characteristics,  bearing  a  close  resem- 
blance to  Maryland  and  Virginia. 

The  traveller,  as  he  proceeds  south  from  Philadelphia,  finds  the 
proportion  borne  by  the  negroes  to  the  whole  population  increasing 
in  each  successive  town  which  he  enters.  But  in  no  place  north  of 
it  are  they  so  numerous,  compared  with  the  whites,  as  in  Charleston. 
In  1840,  they  constituted  a  little  more  than  half  its  entire  population. 
Charleston  has  many  peculiarities  to  remind  the  stranger  of  its  lati- 
tude, but  none  so  striking  or  so  constantly  before  his  eyes,  as  the 
swarms  of  negroes  whom  he  meets.  They  are  everywhere,  in  the  capa- 
city of  domestic  servants  within  and  of  labourers  out  of  doors,  about 
the  wharves  and  shipping,  and  in  the  streets,  toiling,  singing  or 
whistling,  and  grimacing.  The  practice  of  letting  them  out  to  hire 
is  very  prevalent  in  Charleston,  many  people  making  comfortable 
incomes  in  this  way  out  of  the  labour  of  their  slaves,  as  horse-dealers 
sometimes  do  out  of  that  of  their  cattle. 

In  a  commercial  point  of  view,  Charleston  is  a  place  of  great 
importance.  Not  only  is  nearly  the  whole  export  trade  of  the  State 
centred  in  it,  but  much  of  the  foreign  trade  of  North  Carolina  is 
indirectly  conducted  through  it.  The  same  may  be  said  of  some 
portion  of  the  export  trade  of  Georgia,  being  thus  a  serious  com- 
petitor to  Savannah,  the  chief  port  of  entry  of  that  State,  and  lying 
a  little  more  than  one  hundred  miles  to  the  south  of  Charleston.  It 
is  mainly  as  a  place  of  export  that  Charleston  figures  amongst  the 
the  chief  seaports  of  the  Union.  Cotton  is,  of  course,  its  principal 
article  of  export,  of  which  South  Carolina  is  a  larger  producer  than 
any  other  Atlantic  State.  In  addition  to  this,  as  already  intimated, 
Charleston  is  advantageously  situated  as  a  place  of  export  for  large 
sections  of  the  contiguous  States.  The  greatest  quantity  of  raw 
cotton  exported,  either  for  home  consumption  or  to  foreign  countries, 
from  the  Atlantic  coast,  is  from  the  port  of  Charleston. 

But  although  the  great  outlet  for  the  staple  produce  of  the  South- 
ern Atlantic  States,  it  is  not  equally  favourably  situated  as  a  place 
of  import.  The  population  immediately  around  it  is  comparatively 
scanty, and  increases  but  slowly,  when  we  consider  the  rate  at  which 
it  multiplies  elsewhere  in  the  Union  ;  besides,  not  more  than  one- 
half  of  the  entire  population  of  the  districts  contiguous  to  it  are 
consumers  of  the  chief  articles  of  import,  the  slaves  being  exclusively 
fed  upon  home-grown  produce,  and  now  almost  exclusively  clothed 
in  home-made  Osnaburgs — a  coarse  cotton  fabric,  manufactured 

2* 


18  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

tured  to  a  great  extent  in  the  South,  and  so  cheap  that  not  only  is 
it  impossible  for  the  foreign  manufacturer  to  compete  with  it,  but  it 
also  defies  competition  from  New  England,  whose  coarse  fabrics  suc- 
cessfully compete  in  the  other  American  markets  with  our  own. 
Charleston  having  thus  no  great  interior  demand  to  supply,  imports 
but  little  as  compared  with  the  amount  of  its  exports.  The  dense 
and  more  rapidly  increasing  populations  still  further  west  are  chiefly 
supplied  by  their  own  ports  on  the  Mexican  Gulf,  such  as  Mobile 
and  New  Orleans.  They  are  thus  independent  of  Charleston,  which 
is  only  called  upon  to  supply  South  Carolina,  and  portions  of  the  two 
adjoining  States.  And  even  of  these  it  has  not  the  exclusive  supply, 
for  much  of  the  foreign  consumption,  both  of  Georgia  and  the  two 
Carolinas,  is  supplied  from  the  more  northern  seaports. 

The  trade  of  Charleston  has  fluctuated  very  much,  its  exports 
greatly  exceeding  in  1801  what  they  were  in  1842.  If  it  is  not  a 
receding,  it  has  none  of  the  appearance  of  an  advancing  town.  Its 
population  returns,  at  different  periods,  indicate  this.  It  has  not 
doubled  its  population  since  1790,  whilst  other  cities  around  it  have 
more  than  quadrupled  theirs.  From  IS10  to  1820  it  increased  only 
from  24,711  to  24,780.  In  1830  it  contained  30,289  inhabitants, 
being  a  gain  of  nearly  G,000  during  the  previous  decade.  In  1840. 
however,  it  had  fallen  off  to  29,261,  since  which  time  it  has  again 
slightly  increased.  In  the  Old  World  a  town  does  well  that  main- 
tains its  ground,  but  in  the  New,  a  community  which  is  stationary 
may  be  ranked  in  the  category  of  those  that  are  retrograde. 

South  Carolina,  although  by  far  the  smallest  State  south  of  the 
Potomac,  has  played  as  conspicuous  a  figure  in  the  politics  of  the 
Union  as  any  member  of  the  Confederacy.,  The  question  with  which 
she  has  all  along  principally  identified  herself,  is  that  of  the  tariff, 
although  her  name  is  associated  with  other  questions  of  an  important 
character,  but  which  sprung  from  angry  disputes  which  the  tariff  occa- 
sioned. From  an  early  period  South  Carolina  took  the  lead  in  the 
free-trade  movement,  which,  in  its  progress,  has  been  more  than  once 
fraught  with  peril  to  the»Union,  arid  which  only  achieved  its  ultimate 
triumph  in  1846.  Until  the  recent  and  rapid  rise  of  the  cotton-grow- 
ing States,  on  the  Mississippi  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  South  Carolina 
was  the  chief  producer  of  the  great  staple  article  of  southern  export. 
She  was,  therefore,  the  chief  sufferer  from  the  series  of  high  tariffs, 
designed  and  adopted  for  the  protection  of  the  domestic  manufacturer, 
which  prevailed,  with  but  little  intermission,  till  1832.  These 
tariffs  were  obviously  detrimental  to  the  interests  of  the  southern 
States,  which  had  no  manufactures  to  protect,  and  which  could  pro- 
cure all  that  they  wanted  for  their  own  consumption  much  more 
cheaply  and  better  from  the  foreign  manufacturer,  who  was,  in  turn, 
their  best  customer,  inasmuch  as  he  was  the  chief  consumer  of  their 
raw  produce.  South  Carolina  took  up  the  question  as  one  of  vital 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  19 

interest  to  her.  She  found  hereslf  injuriously  affected  by  the  protect- 
ive policy  in  a  double  sense,  for  not  only  was  her  foreign  market 
curtailed  by  the  partial  prohibition  at  home  of  foreign  goods  manufac- 
tured from  her  staple  produce,  but  it  was  also  still  further  abridged, 
by  the  enhanced  cost  of  production  which  a  high  tariff  occasioned  by 
not  only  raising  the  price  of  many  of  the  necessary  articles  of  con- 
sumption with  which  the  planter  had  to  provide  his  slaves,  but  by 
actually  taxing  the  cotton  bagging  which  he  imported  for  the  pur- 
pose of  packing  his  raw  cotton  for  exportation.  Dreading,  in  addi- 
tion to  this,  the  adoption  of  some  retaliatory  policy  on  the  part  of 
Great  Britain,  which  would  still  further  injuriously  affect  her  interests, 
and  goaded  almost  to  madness  by  the  blighting  effects  of  the  tariff  of 
1828,  as  visible  in  the  serious  declension  of  her  export  trade,  South 
Carolina  at  length  attacked  the  whole  protective  system,  in  a  manner 
which,  in  1832,  produced  a  political  crisis  eminently  dangerous  to 
the  stability  of  the  Union.  The  contest  was  waged  hotly  on  both 
sides;  the  cotton-growing  States  denying  to  Congress  the  right  to 
impose  taxes  for  any  other  purpose  than  revenue,  and  the  manufac- 
turing States  of  the  north  contending  that  it  had  full  power  to  protect 
home  manufactures,  with  a  view  to  building  up  an  "American 
system,"  whereby  the  United  States  would  ultimately  be  constituted 
into  a  self-subsistent  nation,  independent,  as  regarded  the  necessaries 
of  life  at  least,  of  all  the  world. 

Whilst  South  Carolina  insisted  that  the  powers  of  Congress  to 
impose  taxes  did  not  extend  beyond  what  was  actually  necessary  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  revenue,  she  saw  no  benefit  to  accrue  from 
an  "  American  system,"  which  threatened  with  ruin  one  moiety  of  the 
Confederacy.  It  was  in  vain  that  the  domestic  manufacturer  promis- 
ed her  as  good  a  market  at  home  for  her  produce  as  she  enjoyed 
abroad.  Even  if  he  could  fulfil  his  promises,  they  were  at  best  but 
prospective,  whilst  she  enjoyed  a  present  advantage  from  the  English 
market,  from  which  it  was  proposed,  as  much  as  possible,  to  discon- 
nect her.  This  dispute,  arraying  in  hostility  to  each  other  the  con- 
flicting interests  of  the  two  great  sections  of  the  Confederacy,  gave 
rise,  in  course  of  time,  to  other  questions  of  a  still  more  awkward  and 
dangerous  kind,  prominent  amongst  which  were  those  of  Nullification 
and  Secession.  The  whole  matter  has  already  been  elsewhere  more 
fully  touched  upon  in  these  pages,  but  I  may  here  again,  in  treating 
more  particularly  of  South  Carolina,  briefly  allude  to  some  points 
connected  with  it.  The  dispute  concerning  the  tariff  brought  under 
seview  the  powers  and  duties  of  the  federal  government.  After  in- 
risting  that  its  powers  in  reference  to  taxation  were  limited  as  above 
specified,  South  Carolina  assumed  the  position  that,  if  Congress  ex- 
ceeded its  constitutional  powers,  any  State  in  the  Union  had  a  right, 
quoad  itself,  to  nullify  its  acts,  in  other  words,  to  render  them  of  no 
effect  by  preventing  their  execution  within  its  limits.  This  doctrine 
was  resisted  by  the  great  majority  of  the  States ;  the  Unionists  contend- 


20  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

ing  that  no  State  had  the  power  to  judge  for  itself  as  to  the  unconstitu- 
tional ity  of  any  act  of  Congress,  that  power  being  solely  vested  in  the 
Supreme  Federal  Court,  and  that,  consequently,  it  was  competent 
for  no  State  to  resist  within  its  limits  the  execution  of  any  act  of  Con- 
gress, which  the  Supreme  Court  had  not  declared  to  be  in  violation 
of  the  constitution.  Considering  the  limited  amount  of  the  imports 
of  South  Carolina,  she  would  have  gained  but  little  by  preventing  the 
levy  of  the  high  duties  complained  of  within  her  limits,  the  value  of 
her  imports  affecting  but  little  the  average  cost  of  imported  articles 
to  the  general  consumer;  for  it  is  scarcely  to  be  supposed  that  the  for- 
eign importer,  or  the  native  engaged  in  the  import  business,  except 
in  South  Carolina  herself,  would  have  run  the  hazard  of  making 
Charleston  his  port  of  entry,  in  contravention  of  the  general  revenue 
laws  of  the  Union.  But  with  the  rise  of  the  doctrine  of  Nullification, 
the  question  came  to  involve  a  political  principle,  which  the  one 
party  was  as  desirous  to  promote,  as  the  other  was  determined  to 
resist.  Matters  at  length  came  to  such  a  pass,  that  an  amicable  ad- 
justment of  the  dispute  seemed  out  of  the  question,  and  both  parties 
prepared  for  an  armed  collision.  General  Jackson  was  then  Presi- 
dent of  the  Republic,  and  his  impetuous  character  and  fiery  temper 
would  have  hurried  him  at  once  to  extremities,  but  that  there  were 
about  him  cooler  heads  than  his  own  to  advise  him  to  temporise  a 
little.  This  saved  the  Confederacy  from  destruction,  for  had  a  colli- 
sion ensued,  it  is  impossible  to  set  bounds  to  the  lamentable  results 
which  would  have  followed.  South  Carolina  was  fully  armed  for 
resistance,  had  a  blow  been  struck  by  the  federal  government;  and 
for  weeks  before  the  final  adjustment  of  the  dispute,  her  troops  were 
being  marched  and  drilled,  in  many  instances,  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  even  in  sight  of  the  federal  forces.  At  length,  but  not  before  the 
Union  had  been  brought  to  the  brink  of  dissolution,  the  catastrophe 
was  averted  by  the  Compromise  Act,  which  provided  for  the  gradual 
diminution  of  the  duties  leviable  by  the  oppressive  tariff  of  1828,  by 
biennial  reductions  until  1842,  when  the  act  would  expire. 

The  Seceders,  who  also  figured  in  the  dispute,  carried  their  views 
even  further  than  the  Nullifiers,  contending  for  the  right  of  a  State,  if 
it  saw  cause,  itself  being  the  sole  judge  of  the  urgency  of  the  occa- 
sion, to  withdraw  entirely  from  the  Union,  in  other  words,  to  abro- 
gate, quoad  itself,  the  federal  constitution.  This  was  but  directly 
advocating  a  principle  to  which  Nullification,  if  admitted,  would 
indirectly  lead.  It  had  in  it,  however,  so  much  of  the  appearance  of 
treason  to  the  Confederacy,  that  it  counted  far  fewer  adherents  than 
the  rival  doctrine,  which  stood  towards  it  in  the  relation  of  the 
shadow  to  the  substance. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  this  angry  contest  South  Carolina  took 
the  lead  on  the  free-trade  side,  not  alone  on  account  of  the  magnitude 
of  the  interests  which  she  had  involved  in  it,  the  corispicuousness  of 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  21 

her  position  being  greatly  attributable  to  the  character  of  the  men 
whom  she  produced  as  her  champions  for  the  occasion.  Amongst  the 
many  eminent  Carolinians  who  figured  during  that  critical  period, 
and  whose  names  are  destined  to  adorn  the  annals  of  their  country, 
Mr.  Calhoun  and  Mr.  M'Duffie  stand  prominently  forth,  unrivalled 
in  the  zeal  and  energy  which  they  displayed,  and  the  eloquence  with 
which  they  advocated  their  cause.  Some  of  them  have  since  passed 
away,  but  these  two  yet  remain  the  representatives  of  South  Carolina 
in  the  federal  senate.  Mr.  M'Duffie  being  now  aged  and  infirm,  Mr. 
Calhoun,  on  the  other  hand,  although  far  advanced  in  life,  still  pos- 
sessing all  the  perseverance  and  much  of  the  vigour  which  character- 
ised his  early  career. 

On  the  expiration,  in  1842.  of  the  Compromise  Act,  the  Protec- 
tionists had  once  more  either  the  power  or  the  adroitness  to  re-enact, 
to  a  partial  extent,  the  tariff  of  1828.  This  they  did,  in  defiance  of 
many  warnings  of  a  recurrence  of  the  scenes  of  1832.  How  soon 
similar  scenes  would  have  been  presented  upon  the  theatre  of  the 
Union  it  is  not  easy  to  say,  had  not  the  possibility  of  their  recurrence 
for  the  present  been  prevented  by  the  tariff-bill  of  1846,  which  re- 
duced the  duties  upon  most  articles  of  import  to  the  revenue  standard. 
This  settlement  of  the  question,  so  much  desired  by  the  South,  is  all 
the  more  likely  to  be  permanent,  not  only  from  its  having  been  se- 
cured by  the  co-operation  of  the  West,  which  seems  at  length  to  have 
been  fairly,  though  tardily,  converted  to  free-trade  views,  but  also 
from  the  manner  in  which  its  results  have  falsified  all  the  prognosti- 
cations of  the  Whigs  concerning  it,  especially  in  a  revenue  point  of 
view,  and  more  than  realised  in  this  respect  the  expectations  even  of 
its  most  sanguine  promoters. 

Washington  was,  of  course,  the  chief  focus  of  excitement  through- 
out the  whole  of  this  memorable  controversy.  In  both  Houses  of 
Congress  the  discussions  which  it  engendered  were  frequent,  acri- 
monious, and  animated.  On  one  of  these  occasions,  the  fervid 
eloquence  of  Mr.  M'Duffie,  which  had  always  a  decided  effect,  pro- 
duced a  more  than  usually  powerful  impression.  Contrasting  the 
condition  of  South  Carolina  previously  with  that  in  which  she  found 
herself  subsequently  to  the  tariff  of  1828,  he  detailed  the  blighting 
effects  of  that  measure  upon  her  trade,  commerce,  and  prospects,  in 
a  fine  crescendo  passage,  which  he  adroitly  wound  up  by  quoting,  as 
applicable  to  her  situation,  the  couplet — 

"Not  a  rose  of  the  wilderness  left  on  its  stalk, 
To  tell  where  a  garden  had  been." 

The  importance  of  the  subject,  the  momentous  nature  of  the 
issues  involved,  the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  the  earnestness  of 
the  speaker,  and  the  appositeness  of  the  quotation,  all  concurred  in 
causing  the  House  to  depart  from  the  decorum  which  it  usually 


22  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

observes — audible  expressions  of  applause  breaking  from  many  of 
the  benches  around  him. 

An  incident  shortly  afterwards  occurred  in  connexion  with  the 
same  subject,  which  not  only  produced  an  indescribable  sensation 
in  Congress,  but  also  sent  a  thrill  to  the  remotest  extremities  of  the 
Union.  As  the  contest  was  prolonged,  it  waxed  hotter  and  hotter, 
the  disputants  daily  assuming  bolder  positions,  and  giving  utterance 
to  more  menacing  alternatives.  At  length  was  fulminated,  not  by 
inuendo,  but  in  express  words,  the  terrible  threat  of  the  dissolution 
of  the  Union.  The  effect  upon  the  house  was  as  if  a  tocsin  had 
suddenly  sounded  overhead.  The  startled  senators  looked  incredu- 
lously at  each  other,  in  the  hope  that  their  ears  had  deceived  them ; 
but  there  was  no  deception  in  the  case,  for  there  stood  the  speaker, 
pale  and  trembling,  his  eye  dilated,  his  lip  quivering,  and  his  whole 
attitude  betokening  that  he  had  been  awe-struck  at  the  sounds  to 
which  his  own  voice  had  given  utterance.  There,  too,  on  the  floor, 
but  without  the  body  of  the  House,  were  some  of  the  high  functionaries 
of  State,  and  most  of  the  diplomatic  corps  resident  in  Washington, 
looking  grave  and  solemn ;  and  there  were  the  public  galleries 
thronged  with  agitated  but  motionless  occupants;  whilst  the  very 
reporters  looked  as  if  they  doubted  the  evidence  of  their  senses,  and 
their  fingers  refused  to  chronicle  the  words.  The  idea  had  long  been 
afloat  in  the  public  mind  as  something  merely  within  the  range  of 
possibility;  but  this  broaching  of  it  in  the  centre  of  the  Republic, 
this  open  threat  of  it  in  the  very  temple  of  the  confederation,  seemed 
to  place  the  country  at  one  bound,  half-way  between  the  idea  and 
its  realisation.  I  have  the  testimony  of  several  who  witnessed  the 
scene,  that  it  was  one  of  the  most  solemn  and  impressive  descrip- 
tion. It  is  difficult  for  a  stranger  to  appreciate  the  attachment 
which  an  American  cherishes,  no  matter  what  part  of  the  country 
he  inhabits,  for  the  federal  Union, — whilst  no  one  is  in  a  better 
position  than  he  is  to  understand  the  perils  to  which,  from  conflict- 
ing interests,  it  is  liable,  Until  the  South,  on  this  occasion,  openly 
held  it  in  terrorem  over  the  North,  the  idea  of  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union  was  spoken  of  more  in  whispers  than  otherwise.  The  pro- 
mulgation of  it  in  Congress  seemed  to  transfer  it  at  once  from  the 
category  of  things  possible  to  that  of  things  probable;  and  it  is  now 
frequently  referred  to  with  an  unconcern  more  apparent  than  real, 
both  within  and  without  the  walls  of  the  legislature.  But  a  great 
obstacle  is  removed  from  between  an  idea  and  its  consummation, 
when  it  becomes  a  familiar  subject  of  thought  and  topic  of  conversa- 
tion, and  when  the  notion  of  its  probability  is  one  to  which  those  who 
are  chiefly  interested  become  more  or  less  reconciled.  The  integrity 
of  the  Union  is  no  longer  that  solemn  and  unquestionable  reality 
which  it  used  to  be  with  the  American.  His  present  attachment  to 
it,  great  though  it  be,  rests  upon  a  conviction  of  its  expediency  more 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  23 

than  of  its  sacredness.  The  spell  of  its  sanctity  was  broken,  when 
South  Carolina  threatened  to  demonstrate  its  violability.  It  is  now 
deemed  neither  sacrilegious  to  speculate  upon,  nor  unpatriotic  to 
menace  it.  For  the  present,  however,  it  runs  no  serious  risk  of  dis- 
ruption from  fiscal  disputes.  Slavery  is  its  evil  genius,  and  the 
question  which  is  yet  destined  to  put  its  solidity  to  the  most  perilous 
test. 

Having  no  particular  object  in  prolonging  my  stay,  I  left  Charles- 
ton, after  two  days'  sojourn  in  it,  en  route  for  New  Orleans.  My  first 
intention  was  to  proceed  as  far  south  as  Savannah;  but  as  that  town 
possessed  no  feature  of  particular  attraction,  and  as  the  sea-coast 
region  of  Georgia  had  little  in  it  to  distinguish  it  from  the  corres- 
ponding districts  in  the  two  Carolinas,  I  abandoned  the  idea,  and 
took  the  most  direct  route  from  Charleston  to  the  great  emporium 
of  the  West.  I  was  all  the  more  induced  to  do  this  on  ascertaining 
that  the  route  on  which  I  had  decided  would  lead  me  through  some 
of  the  older  and  better  parts  of  the  State,  of  Georgia  back  from  the 
sea-coast,  and  bordering  upon  its  more  recent  acquisitions  from  the 
Creeks  and  Cherokees, — acquisitions  redounding  more  to  the  advan- 
tage of  this  and  some  of  the  neighbouring  States,  than  to  the  credit 
of  those  who  bore  the  chief  part  in  the  systematic  spoliation  by  which 
they  were  effected. 

The  first  point  for  which  I  made  was  Columbia,  the  capital  of 
South  Carolina,  lying  a  little  upwards  of  one  hundred  miles  in  a 
north-westerly  direction  from  Charleston.  The  two  places  are  con- 
nected by  a  railway,  which,  on  my  passing  over  it,  was  composed  in 
most  places  of  but  a  single  line.  For  more  than  half  the  whole 
distance  this  line  traverses  the  tide-water  section  of  the  State. 
Travelling  upon  it  from  Charleston  to  Columbia  was  but  reversing 
the  journey  from  Raleigh  to  Wilmington.  There  was  but  little  to 
distinguish  the  one  route  from  the  other,  except  that,  in  this  case,  I 
was  ascending  to  the  higher  and  drier  regions  of  the  country,  instead 
of  descending,  as  in  the  other,  to  the  low  and  marshy  districts  of 
the  coast.  The  inhabitants  divide  the  land  into  five  or  six  different 
classes  of  soil,  distinguishing  them  partly  by  their  quality,  and  partly 
by  their  mere  position.  To  the  traveller,  however,  the  State  divides 
itself  into  but  three  great  sections :  the  low  tract  on  the  coast,  the 
middle  region,  and  the  high  and  mountainous  district  to  the  west. 
These  have  each  its  peculiarities,  whilst  their  diversity  of  soil  and 
production  is  found  to  be  advantageous  to  the  general  interests.  The 
portion  of  the  low  ground,  known  as  the  Tide-swamp,  is  rarely  found 
convertible  to  any  useful  purpose,  rice  being  extensively  cultivated 
in  the  marshy  soils  lying  immediately  back  of  it,  and  beyond  the 
range  of  the  tide.  Along  some  parts  of  the  coast,  hemp  is  also  found 
cultivated  ;  on  this  belt,  rice  and  cotton  are  the  staple  articles  of 
production  of  the  State,  and  consequently  figure  most  largely  in  its 


24  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

exports.  Indigo  was  at  one  time  extensively  cultivated  in  this  State, 
but  it  has  since  given  way  for  other  and  more  profitable  crops.  The 
principal  cotton  plantations  are  to  be  found  along  the  banks  of  the 
rivers,  in  the  low  country,  where  the  soil  is  of  an  excellent  quality  and 
easily  cultivated.  The  whole  of  this  district,  however,  which  has,  in 
most  places,  from  the  quantity  of  dark  and  sombre  pitch-pine  with 
which  it  abounds,  the  gloomy  and  monotonous  aspect  described 
above  as  characteristic  of  the  great  tide-water  region,  of  which  it  is 
but  a  portion,  is  so  unhealthy  that,  from  May  till  October,  every  one 
psssessed  of  or  inheriting  a  European  constitution,  who  can  manage 
to  do  so,  abandons  it  to  the  negroes,  with  whom  it  seems  to  agree, 
or  who  are  compelled  to  remain  and  run  all  the  hazards  to  which  it 
may  subject  them.  The  approach  to  the  middle  region  is  indicated 
by  successive  ridges  of  sandy  hillocks,  their  elevation  being  too 
trifling  to  entitle  them  to  a  more  dignified  appellation.  Amongst 
these  ridges  flow  a  number  of  small  streams,  which,  in  their  descent 
to  the  low  country,  afford  an  excellent  water-power,  of  which  several 
companies  have  availed  themselves,  by  establishing  factories  upon 
them,  chiefly  for  the  manufacture  of  the  coarse  and  heavy  osnaburgs 
already  alluded  to,  designed  almost  exclusively  for  negro  consump- 
tion. What  makes  the  xwater-power  thus  afforded  all  the  more 
valuable  is,  that  it  is  available  all  the  year  round,  for  such  is  the 
nature  of  the  district  through  which  the  streams  affording  it  flow, 
that  they  are  seldom  swollen  by  the  heaviest  rains,  or  dried  up  by 
the  most  protracted  heats.  It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  that  they 
are  never  rendered  useless  by  being  arrested  by  frost. 

Between  these  sandy  elevations  and  the  mountainous  district  to 
the  westward,  is  a  broad  belt  of  country,  in  the  main  barren  and 
unprofitable,  but  with  rich  and  fertile  veins  of  low  lying  soil  here 
and  there  intersecting  it.  On  these  are  produced  Indian  corn,  some 
indigo,  and  occasionally  tobacco.  Wheat  is  also  raised,  but  to  a 
trifling  extent,  South  Carolina  being  chiefly  provided  from  the  north 
with  the  little  quantity  of  this  grain  which  she  consumes.  The 
remainder  of  this  belt,  including  by  far  the  greater  portion  of  it,  is 
almost  entirely  covered  with  pine,  and  is  familiarly  known  as  the 
"  pine  barrens."  The  dreary  reaches  of  pine  forest  with  which  it  is 
clothed  are  now  and  then  broken  by  the  savannas,  which  are  neither 
more  nor  less  than  isolated  prairies  on  a  small  scale,  covered  with  a 
tall,  rank  grass,  in  the  main  too  coarse  for  pasturage.  Along  the 
richer  veins  which  permeate  the  tract  is  to  be  found  a  variety  of 
timber,  amongst  which  are  conspicuous  the  hickory,  the  live  oak, 
and  occasionally  the  white  and  red  cedar.  Every  here  and  there,too, 
the  magnolia  is  to  be  met  with  amongst  them,  ornamenting  the  forest 
with  its  gay  but  not  gaudy  appearance,  and  perfuming  the  air  with 
its  luscious  breath.  Fruits,  too,  of  almost  all  kinds  abound  in  the 
richer  portions  of  this  region,  as  they  do  also  in  the  warm  valley^ 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  25 

lying  beyond  the  mountainous  ridge  to  the  westward,  to  which, 
however,  my  route  did  not  lead  me;  whilst  wild  flowers  in  profusion 
are  to  be  seen  exhibiting  their  variegated  and  dazzling  colours  along 
the  skirts  of  the  forests  and  the  margins  of  the  streams. 

In  Europe  we  invariably  associate  with  the  idea  of  a  capital  a 
large  and  splendid  city,  the  seat  of  wealth,  luxury,  and  refinement. 
The  European  who  might  carry  frhis  association  with  him  to  America 
would  subject  himself  to  many  singular  surprises,  but  to  none  more 
so  than  that  which  he  would  encounter  on  entering  the  capital  of 
South  Carolina.  It  has  fallen  to  the  lot  of  but  few  of  the  large  and 
important  towns  of  America  to  be  4he  seats  of  government  of  their 
respective  States.  The  federal  capital  itself,  as  already  shown,  is  but  a 
small,  and,  in  all  respects  but  one,  an  unimportant  place.  The  sites 
of  the  great  cities  have  been  selected  with  a  view  to  the  convenience 
of  trade  and  commerce ;  whereas  in  the  choice  of  those  of  the  differ- 
ent seats  of  government,  a  very  different  kind  of  convenience  has 
been  consulted.  Boston  and  New  Orleans*  are  the  only  two  large 
towns  enjoying  the  dignity  of  capital  cities — a  dignity  which  is 
denied  to  New  York,Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Charleston,  Cincinnati, 
and  St.  Louis.  In  fixing  upon  the  situation  of  the  capital  the  object 
in  most  of  the  States  has  beerf  to  select  it  at  a  point  as  near  the  geo- 
graphical centre  of  the  State  as  possible.  The  cities  last  named  are 
all  either  at  one  side  or  atone  of  the  corners  of  their  respective 
States.  Boston  is  also  eccentrically  situated,  but  it  still  retains  the 
political  pre-eminence  in  Massachussets  which  it  has  ever  enjoyed. 
At  first,  wlven  the  population  of  each  State  was  greatly  scattered, 
and  the  means  of  commu-nication  between  one  point  and  another 
were  of  the  most  wretched  and  impracticable  description,  there  was 
good  reason  for  consulting  the  general  convenience,  by  placing  the 
seat  of  government,  in  which  the  legislature  was  annually  to  assemble, 
as  nearly  as  possible  equidistant  from  its  extremities.  Now,  however, 
that  the  means  of  travelling  are  greatly  improved,  and  are  still 
rapidly  improving,  the  same  necessity  does  not  exist ;  and  it  is 
questionable,  if  the  selection  had  to  be  made  now,  if  the  large  towns 
would  be  abandoned  for  the  sake  of  more  central  positions.  There 
is  certainly  another  reason  for  the  choice,  which  still  retains  what- 
ever of  force  it  originally  possessed,  which  is,  that  the  deliberations 
of  a  legislature  essentially  popular  are  much  more  likely  to  be  properly 
and  unmolestedly  conducted  in  the  midst  of  a  small,  than  of  a  large 
community.  Very  recent  events  in  Harrisburg,  Pennsylvania,  how- 
ever, show  that  even  in  a  small  town  the  sovereignty  of  a  State  may 
be  subjected  to  the  most  wanton  outrage.  If  the  State  legislature 
were  always  surrounded  by  a  certain  amount  offeree  for  its  protection, 
that  force  would  undoubtedly  be  of  more  avail  against  a  few  than 

*  The  latter  has  since  been  deprived  of  it. 
VOL.  II.— 3 


26  THE    WESTERN  WORLD. 

against  a  multitude  of  assailants.  But  such  is  not  the  case ;  the 
American  legislatures  depending  for  their  security,  first  upon  the 
municipal  authorities  of  the  places  at  which  they  assemble,  and  then, 
should  they  fail  them  or  prove  insufficient,  upon  the  militia  of  the 
State.  If,  in  a  large  town,  the  number  of  their  assailants  might  be 
great,  the  force  which  they  could  summon  for  their  protection  would 
be  great  in  proportion.  When  in'Harrisburg  the  legislature  was 
summarily  ejected  by  the  mob  from  its  place  of  meeting,  the  Governor 
of  the  State  had  to  send  to  Philadelphia  for  aid  to  quell  the  riot. 
Had  it  occurred  in  that  city,  the  probability  is  that  no  extraneous 
assistance  would  have  been  required  for  its  suppression.  Besides, 
in  times  of  commotion,  and  when  there  may  be  a  prospect  of  civil 
disturbances,  the  influence  of  the  government  should  be  particularly 
felt  in  the  community,  which,  by  its  example,  is  capable  of  effecting 
the  greatest  good  or  evil ;  and  this  can  only  be  done  by  its  presence 
in  the  midst  of  it. 

Columbia,  the  seat  of  government  in  South  Carolina,  is  situated 
on  the  banks  of  a  river  called  the  Congaree,  a  stream  of  petty 
pretensions  in  America,  but  one  which  would  cut  a  very  respectable 
figure  in  the  geography  of  a  European  kingdom.  The  town  contains 
a  population  scarcely  so  numerous  as'that  of  Horsham,  and  would 
be  esteemed  as  a  fair  specimen  of  a  parliamentary  borough  in  England. 
One  would  think  that  in  selecting  a  site  for  their  capital,  fertility  in 
the  circumjacent  region  would  be  a  sine  qua  non  with  any  people. 
But  not  so  with  the  Carolinians,  who,  in  order  to  have  it  in  as  central 
a  position  as  possible,  have  placed  it  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  most 
barren  districts  of  the  State.  Luckily,  its  limited  population  renders 
it  easy  of  supply,  for  it  is  difficult, to  see  how  a  large  community 
could  subsist  on  such  a  spot,  unless  they  couid  accommodate  them- 
selves to  pine-cones  as  their  chief  edible.  But  Palmyra  managed  to 
subsist  in  the  desert,  and  so  may  Columbia  in  the  wilderness,  which 
is  the  only  appellation  which  can  properly  be  bestowed  upon  the 
dreary  and  almost  unbroken  expanse  of  pine  forest  which  surrounds 
it. 

Notwithstanding  all  its  disadvantages  in  point  of  position,  Columbia 
is,  on  the  whole,  rather  an  interesting  little  town.  There  is  about 
it  an  air  of  neatness  and  elegance  which  betokens  it  to  be  the  resi- 
dence of  a  superior  class  of  people — many  of  the  planters  whose 
estates  are  in  the  neighbourhood  making  it  the  place  of  their  abode  ; 
as  well  as  the  governor,  the  chief  functionaries  of  state  subordinate 
to  him,  and  some  of  the  judges.  There  is  little  or  nothing  connected 
with  the  government  buildings  worthy  of  attention,  their  dimensions 
being  very  limited,  and  their  style  of  a  simple  and  altogether  unam- 
bitious description.  The  streets/ as  in  the  majority  of  the  southern 
towns  of  more  recent  origin,  are  long,  sttaight  and  broad,  and  are 
lined,  for  the  most  part,  with  trees,  prominent  amongst  which  is  to 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  27 

be  found  the  gay  and  flaunting  "  Pride  of  India."  Here,  in  this 
small,  quiet  and  unimposing-looking  town,  are  conducted  the  affairs 
of  a  sovereign  State,  at  a  coat  of  under  50,000/.,  including  not  only 
the  salaries  of  all  its  functionaries  political,  judicial,  and  municipal, 
but  also  the  payment  of  the  members  of  the  legislature  during  their 
attendance  at  its  annual  sitting.  South  Carolina,  however,  is  not  so 
fortunate  as  to  be  free  of  debt  like  her  northern  namesake.  Her 
absolute  obligations  exceed  three  millions  of  dollars,  to  which  is  to 
be  added  a  contingent  debt  of  about  two  millions,  making  her  present 
total  debt  exceed  five  millions  of  dollars.  On  her  absolute  debt  she 
now  pays  about  170,000  dollars  a  year  by  way  of  interest,  or  about 
40, OOO/.,  nearly  as  much  as  is  required  to  defray  the  annual  expense 
of  the  government  of  the  State.  She  is  not  without  something  to. 
show,  however,  as  a  set-off  to  the  liabilities  which  she  has  incurred. 
Her  public  works  are  more  numerous  than  extensive,  and  are  pro- 
portionate to  her  existing  wants.  By  means  of  some  of  these,  a 
communication  by  boats  has  been  opened  between  the  capital  and 
the  sea-board. 

From  Columbia  I  proceeded  by  railway  towards  Augusta.  For 
the  first  half  of  the  way  the  country  was  very  uninteresting,  being 
comparatively  flat  and  sandy,  and  covered,  for  the  most  part,  with 
the  interminable  pitch-pine.  Indeed  the  pine  barrens  extend,  with 
but  little  interruption,  almost  the  entire  way  between  the  two  places, 
the  distance  between  them  being  from  eighty  to  ninety  miles.  Here 
and  there  are  some  long  stretches  of  marshy  ground,  over  which  the 
railway  is  carried,  not  by  embankments,  but  upon  piles,  which  impart 
to  it  a  dangerous  and  shaky  appearance.  I  was  not  surprised  at  the 
anxiety  which  almost  every  passenger  manifested  to  get  over  these 
portions  of  the  line  without  accident,  especially  when  I  learnt  that 
there  was  danger  in  being  detained  upon  them  after  night-fall.  It 
was  not  simply,  therefore,  by  the  dread  of  a  break-neck  accident  that 
they  were  animated,  their  fears  being  divided  between  such  a  possi- 
bility and  any  contingency  which  might  expose  them  to  the  nocturnal 
miasmas  of  the  marshes. 

Whilst  passing  over  one  of  these  flimsy  and  aerial-loking  viaducts, 
I  left  the  carriage  in  which  I  was  seated  for  the  platform  outside. 
In  doing  so,  I  perceived  that  I  was  followed  by  a  little  wiry-looking 
man  of  about  forty  years  of  age,  who  had  evidently,  before  my  making 
the  movement,  been  regarding  me  for  some  time  with  the  most 
marked  attention.  He  was  dressed  in  a  pair  of  coarse  grey  trousers, 
a  yellow  waistcoat,  and  a  superfine  blue  swallow-tailed  coat,  profusely 
bespangled  with  large  and  well-burnished  brass  buttons.  His  face, 
which  had  a  sickly  pallor  about  it,  was  strongly  lined,  and  marked 
with  a  mingled  expression  of  shrewdness  and  cunning,  which  gave 
it  some  fascination,  at  the  same  time  that  it  bordered  on  the  repulsive. 
He  was  becoming  prematurely  grey,  his  hair  sticking  out  from  his 


28  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

head  as  strong  and  crispy  as  catgut.  I  instinctively  shrunk  from 
him  as  he  approached  me,  for  I  saw  a  large  capital  note  of  interroga- 
tion in  each  of  his  little  and  restless  light  blue  eyes.  Desirous  of 
not  being  interrupted,  I  pulled  out  a  note-book,  with  which  I  feigned 
to  be  engaged.  Either  the  pretence  was  apparent  to  him,  or,  having 
made  up  his  mind  to  address  me,  he  was  not  going  to  be  baulked  by 
a  trifle.  So  approaching  me  still  nearer,  he  put  a  finishing  pressure 
upon  the  tobacco  which  was  between  his  teeth,  and  the  remaining 
juice  of  which  he  vehemently  squirted  over  the  platform  of  the 
succeeding  carriage.  Having  done  this  he  bent  his  head  forward, 
opened  his  mouth  wide,  and  the  reeking  quid  fell  at  my  feet,  1 
turned  half  aside  in  disgust,  and  was  meditating  a  retreat  into  the 
carriage,  when — 

"  Good  day,  stranger,"  broke  upon  my  ear,  and  intimated  that  I 
was  too  late. 

"  Good  day,"  I  replied,  glancing  at  him  at  the  same  time;  but  he 
was  not  looking  at  me,  for  his  eye  was  so  vacantly  intent  upon  the 
wilderness  before  us,  that,  for  the  moment,  I  doubted  his  having 
addressed  me  at  all. 

"How  d'ye  do?"  said  he  again,  after  a  few  seconds  pause,  nodding 
his  head,  and  looking  me  for  a  moment  full  in  the  face,  after 
which  his  eye  again  rivetted  itself  upon  the  forest. 

"  As  well  as  a  stranger  could  expect  to  be  under  such  a  sun  in 
these  stewing  latitudes,"  I  rejoined,  at  the  same  time  wiping  the 
perspiration,  which  was  flowing  very  freely,  from  my  face. 

"You  don't  chew,  p'r'aps?"  added  he,  offering  me  his  tobacco- 
box;  on  declining  which  he  quietly  replenished  from  its  contents 
the  void  which  the  ejection  of  the  last  quid  had  left  between  his 
jaws. 

"  P'r'aps  you  snuff?"  he  continued. 

I  made  a  negative  motion. 

"Smoke?"  he  added. 

"Occasionally,"  I  replied. 

"  I  don't — it's  a  dirty  habit,"  said  he,  at  the  same  time  ejecting  a 
quantity  of  poisoned  saliva,  a  portion  of  which  falling  upon  the  iron 
railing  which  surrounded  the  platform,  he  rubbed  off  with  his  finger, 
which  he  afterwards  wiped  upon  his  trousers. 

"  In  no  way  can  the  use  of  tobacco  be  regarded  as  a  very  cleanly 
habit,"  I  remarked,  looking  at  the  stain  which  the  operation  had 
left  upon  the  garment  in  question.  But  if  he  heard,  he  affected  not 
to  hear  me,  for  afters  brief  pause,  changing  the  subject — 

"  May  be  you'll  be  no  Scotchman,  I'm  thinkin',"  said  he. 

"  May  be  you're  mistaken  if  you  think  so,"  replied  I. 

"  I  opined  as  much  from  your  tarting  wrapper,"  he  added,  alluding 
to  a  small  shepherd  tartan  plaid  which  I  Carried  with  me  for  night 
travelling. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  29 

"  It  has  something  of  a  Scottish  look  about  it,"  I  remarked  drily 

"  Then,"  said  he,  "  I  was  right  in  my  position." 

"  I  did  not  say  you  were  wrong,"  rejoined  I. 

"  Stranger,"  added  he,  "  had  I  been  wrong,  you'd  'a  said  so." 

I  looked  again  at  my  note-book,  in  the  hope  that  he  would  take 
the  hint.  But  I  was  mistaken,  for,  after  a  brief  silence,  he  con- 
tinued— 

"  I'm  fond  of  Scotchmen,"  looking  at  the  same  time  hard  at  me,  to 
see  what  effect  was  produced  by  the  announcement  of  so  astounding 
a  piece  of  patronage. 

"  Indeed,"  I  remarked,  as  unconcernedly  as  possible;  at  which  he 
seemed  somewhat  annoyed,  for  he  looked  as  if  he  expected  me  to 
grasp  his  hand. 

"  I'm' a  Scotchman  myself,"  he  added,  fixing  his  eye  upon  me 
again. 

I  was  sorry  to  hear  it,  but  looked  unmoved,  simply  replying  by 
the  monosyllabic  ejaculation,  "  Ah." 

"  Not  exactly  a  Scotchman,"  he  continued,  correcting  himself; 
"  for  1  was  born  in  this  country,  and  so  were  my  father  and  grand- 
father before  me." 

"  Then  you  have  a  longer  line  of  American  ancestors  than  most 
of  your  fellow-countrymen  can  boast  of,"  I  observed. 

"  We  don't  vally  these  things  in  this  country,"  said  he  in  reply ; 
"it's  what's  above  ground,  not  what's  under,  that  we  think  on.  Been 
long  in  this  country,  stranger?" 

"  Some  months." 

"  How  much  longer  be  you  going  to  stay  ?"  he  added. 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  tell,"  replied  I,  "  the  length  of  my  stay 
depending  on  a  variety  of  circumstances." 

"  You  couldn't  mention  them?"  he  inquired  cooly,  expectorating 
over  his  right  shoulder,  to  the  imminent  danger  of  another  passenger 
who  had  just  emerged  from  the  carriage,  and  who,  by  a  jerk  of  his 
body,  missed  the  filthy  projectile. 

"  If  I  were  disposed  to  do  so,"  said  I,  rather  amused  at  his  impu- 
dence, "  we  should  be  at  Augusta  long  before  I  could  detail  them  all." 

"I'm  going  futher  on,"  added  he,  as  if  to  intimate  that  he  would 
give  me  an  opportunity  of  finishing  my  story  on  quitting  Augusta. 

"But!  am  not ;  and  we  are  now  but  a  few  miles  from  it,"  I  observed. 

"May  be  your'e  on  government  business?"  said  he,  endeavouring 
to  extort  by  piecemeal  that  of  which  he  was  denied  an  ample 
narration. 

"May  be  I'm  not,"  was  all  the  satisfaction  he  had. 

"I  don't  think  you're  in  the  commercial  line,"  he  continued, 
unabashed;  "and  you  don't  look  as  if  you  was  travelling  for  pleasure 
neither." 

'  It's  very  singular,"  was  my  reply. 

3* 


30  THE    WESTERN  WORLD. 

"  How  long  d'ye  think  you']]  stay  in  this  free  country?"  he  asked, 
baffled  in  his  cross-examination  as  to  my  object  and  pursuits. 

"  Until  I'm  tired  of  it,"  said  I. 

"  When  will  that  be?"  he  inquired. 

"  Perhaps  not  till  I'm  homesick,"  I  replied. 

"  That'll  be  very  soon,"  said  he  ;  "for  most  Europeans  get  home- 
sick mightily  soon  after  comin'  here." 

"  You  give  but  a  poor  account  of  your  country,"  I  observed. 

"  You're  mistaken,  stranger,"  he  remarked,  "I  don't  mean 
homesick." 

"  You  said  homesick,"  rejoined  I. 

"But  I  meant,  sick  of  home,"  he  added,  in  a  tone  of  great 
emphasis ;  "  for  they  can't  be  long  in  the  midst  of  our  free  institoo- 
tions  without  a  gettin'  dead  sick  of  their  tyrannical  governments." 

"  It  depends  a  good  deal  upon  their  turn  of  rnind,  and  a  little 
upon  their  strength  of  stomach,"  I  remarked  ;  for  at  that  moment  the 
tobacco-juice  was  oozing  rapidly  from  either  corner  of  his  mouth. 
He  did  not  comprehend  the  allusion,  and  I  judged  it  as  well  to  leave 
him  in  the  dark. 

I  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say  that,  having  exhibited  himself  in 
the  best  possible  manner  as  an  interrogator,  he  became  gratuitously 
communicative,  informing  me  that  his  name  was  Mackenzie,  that  he 
was  descended  from  ortfe  of  the  Highland  colonists  who  had  been 
transplanted  to  Georgia  more  than  a  century  ago  ;  that  his  great 
grandfather  had  worn  a  kilt  in  the  colony  (the  mountaineers  pre- 
served th.er  dress  and  manners  for  a  number  of  years  after  their 
arrival);  that  a  maiden  aunt  of  his  had  died,  on  her  passage  out  from 
Scotland  some  years  since — a  great  misfortune  to  herself,  he  ad  milled, 
but  a  blessing  to  him,  as  she  left  him  a  considerable  sum  of  money, 
which  enabled  him  to  begin  the  world  afresh,  after  having  compound- 
ed a  second  time  wilh  his  creditors:  that  he  had  married,  on  pros- 
perity returning  to  him,  and  that  in  four  years  he  had  had  five  children. 
He  was  of  course  muqh  interested  in  his  own  narrative,  and  as  there 
was  nothing  in  the  landscape  to  deserve  attention,  I  listened  and 
was  amused.  He  soon,  however,  took  a  more  enlarged  range,  and 
detailed  to  me  with  great  volubility  his  views  as  to  the  superior  and 
illimitable  capacities  of  the  Celtic  race.  It  was  his  profound  belief, 
too,  that  what  the  Celts  were  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  the  Mackenzies 
were  to  the  Celts.  By  some  curious  philological  process  which  I 
could  not  at  all  comprehend,  he  deduced  all  the  Presidents  of  the 
Union,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  from  the  clan.  Madison  was 
clearly  a  Mackenzie,  as  he  proved  by  the  analogy  subsisting  between 
the  two  names,  perceptible  after  dropping  several  letters  and  putting 
others  in  their  places.  Nay  more,  he  proceeded  to  show  that  most  of 
the  great  men  of  other  countries  and  climes,  if  not  exactly  Macken- 
zies, appertained  to  the  race  of  superior  intelligences  which  culmi- 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  31 

nated  in  that  clan.  I  asked  him  in  what  light  in  this  respect  he 
regarded  Confucius  and  the  Apostle  Paul;  to  which  he  replied,  that 
he  was  not  sure  as  to  their  being  Highlanders,  but  was  certain  that 
they  were  not  Anglo-Saxons.  With  one  reflection  he  was  exceed- 
ingly gratified,  viz.  that  as  St.  Paul  had  the  gift  of  tongues,  he  must 
have  spoken  Gaelic — a  fact  which  1  ventured  to  question,  on  the 
ground  of  there  being  no  proof  of  there  having  been  any  High- 
landers at  the  time  to  preach  to  in  Jerusalem. 

"  There's  no  proof  that  there  were  not,"  he  observed,  "  but  there  is 
of  there  having  been  settlers  in  the  East  at  the  time  of  the  patriarchs. 
We  find,"  he  continued,  "  that  Abraham  himself  had  dealings  with 
them." 

"  I  was  aware,  I  replied,"  "that  the  Grants  had  been  discovered 
in  Genesis,  but  beyond  this  I  have  never  heard  of  any  text  which 
bears  you  out  in  your  assertion." 

"  Did  not  Abraham  purchase  the  field  of  Machpelah,  or  rather 
Macphelah,  as  it  should  have  been  rendered  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  tone 
which  betokened  his  belief  that  he  had  caught  me. 

"  Truly,"  said  I,  "  but  that  was  not  a  person's  name,  but  that  of 
the  field." 

"  Are  you  not  aware,"  he  asked,  "  that,  even  to  this  day,  proper- 
ties amongst  the  Highlanders  take  the  name  of  their  chiefs,  and 
chiefs  that  of  their  properties  ?  There  is  Maclean  of  Maclean,  for 
instance." 

"  You  mean,  then,"  observed  I,  "  that  lie  purchased  the  field  of 
MacPhelahofthat  ilk?" 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied,"  and  the  Mac  Phails  of  the  present  day 
are  the  descendants  of  the  Mac  Phelahs  of  old." 

He  had  great  respect  for  the  mechanical  abilities  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  but  in  his  opinion  they  owed  all  their  greatness  to  their  having 
been  guided  by  the  Celtic  mind.  They  had  done  little  that  the 
"niggers"  couldn't  achieve  if  they  were  closely  watched  and  kept 
at  it — the  chief  difference,  he  thought  between  the  two  being,  that 
the  one  race  was  naturally  industrious,  and  the  other  lazy. 

One  of  the  most  marked  peculiarities  of  his  rnind  was  the  hatred 
which  he  cherished  to  the  Brhish  government.  He  could  not  say 
that  it  had  ever  done  him  any  individual  mischief,  but  he  seemed  to 
deem  it  necessary,  as  an  American  and  a  republican,  to  hate  all  tyran- 
nies in  general,  and  that  of  Great  Britain  in  particular.  He  had  not 
the  slightest  conception  of  the  existence  of  anything  like  political  or 
conventional  freedom  in  England.  He  could  not  believe  that  an 
Englishman  could  walk  the  streets  or  the  fields,  or  proceed  with  his 
daily  business,  with  as  little  molestation,  and  with  as  much  security 
as  an  American,  and  with  even  more  security  than  many  of  them, 
as  far  as  regarded  his  protection  by  the  laws.  From  his  idea  of  the 
British  government,  he  could  not  dissociate  the  "red  coats,"  who  came 


32  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

in  for  the  very  quintessence  of  his  hatred,  and  whom  he  regarded  as 
the  ubiquitous  oppressors  of  the  people  all  over  the  island.  I  en- 
deavoured, but  in  vain,  to  modify  his  opinion  in  this  respect.  He 
would  not  be  convinced,  and  was  amazed  that,  as  a  subject  of  the 
British  crown,  I  could  not  see  the  system  of  espionage  and  military 
tyranny  to  which,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  ray  countrymen,  I  was 
subject.  I  afterwards  found  this  violence  of  feeling  characteristic  of 
the  Scotchmen  and  their  immediate  descendants  in  America,  the 
genius  df  the  race  being  such  as  apparently  to  lead  them  to  extremes 
in  the  opinions  which  they  espouse  with  regard  to  politics,  morals,  or 
religion. 

"  Is  that  Augusta?"  I  inquired,  as  a  tall  and  rather  handsome  spire 
at  length  made  its  appearance  in  advance  of  us. 

"  I  reckon  as  how  it  is,"  he  replied,  such  being  his  manner  of 
elaborating  a  simple  affirmative. 

In  a  few  minutes  afterwards  we  were  on  the  banks  of  the  Savannah, 
which  here  separates  Georgia  from  South  Carolina.  Our  haking- 
place  was  a  small  and  very  unpretending-looking  village  called  Ham- 
burgh, which  in  reality  served  as  a  suburb  to  Augusta,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  river.  After  a  few  minutes'  stay  here,  we  crossed  the 
river  to  Augusta,  where  I  took  leave  of  the  singular  being  who  had 
alternately  annoyed  and  amused  me  for  the  lasta  half  hour  of  the 
journey. 

The  Savannahr  opposite  Augusta,  is  about  two-thirds  the  width  of 
the  Thames  at  Waterloo-bridge.  It  is  a  muddy-looking  stream,  with 
a  current  of  from  three  to  four  miles  an  hour.  For  most  of  the  way 
down  to  the  city  of  Savannah,  which  is  about  twenty  miles  from  its 
mouth,  its  banks  are  covered  with  wood,  broken  by  numerous  clear- 
ances in  the  neighbourhood  of  Augusta,  on  which  Indian  corn  is 
raised  with  ease  and  in  great  abundance.  The  depth  of  the  river 
suffices  for  a  steamboat  communication  between  Augusta  and.  Sa- 
vannah, the  former  being  thus  directly  connected  with  the  two  great 
Atlantic  sea-ports,  its  junction  with  Charleston  being  effected  by 
the  South  Carolina  railway,  from  which  the  line  to  Columbia  diverges 
as  a  branch.  Augusta  is  situated  on  a  bluff,  a  considerable  height 
above  the  river,  and  when  viewed  from  the  Carolina  side  of  the  stream 
presents  a  pretty  if  not  an  imposing  appearance.  It  is  but  a  small 
town,  its  population  scarcely  amounting  to  8,000,  and  fully  one-half 
of  this  number  being  negroes,  nearly  all  of  whom  are  slaves.  The 
principal  streets,  which  run  parallel  to  the  river  are  of  a  prodigious 
width,  being  surpassed  in  this  respect  by  nothing  which  I  met  with 
in  the  United  States,  with  the  single  exception  of  Pennsylvania-avenue 
in  Washington.  Like  most  other  American  towns,  particularly  in  the 
South,  its  streets  are  ornamented  with  rows  of  trees,  the"  Pride  of 
India"  figuring  amongst  them,  as  it  usually  does  in  street  scenery 
south  of  the  Potomac.  The  plan  of  the  town  is  faultlessly  regular, 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  33 

and  the  streets  occupied  by  private  dwellings  are  very  neat,  and 
some  of  them  elegant  in  their  appearance.  The  principal  building 
of  which  it  boasts  is  the  Court  House,  a  large  and  handsome  brick 
edifice,  surmounted  by  a  lofty  and  rather  awkward-looking  cupola. 
Behind  it  is  the  Medical-college,  ornamented  in  front  with  a  Greek 
portico,  and  surmounted  by  a  miniature  dome.  On  the  whole, 
Augusta  is  a  place  which  leaves  arvimpression  rather  favourable  than 
otherwise  on  the  mind  of  the  traveller. 

Considering  its  inland  position,  it  is  a  place  of  no  little  trade.  It 
is  the  point  on  which  the  planters  west  of  it  annually  concentrate 
their  produce  for  sale,  and  whence  they  procure  their  supplies,  its 
position  rendering  it,  as  it  were,  but  an  advanced  post  of  Charleston 
and  Savannah. 

A  little  behind  the  town  are  some  gentle  heights,  which  are  be- 
sprinkled with  neat  little  villas,  the  resort,  in  summer  time,  of  many 
of  the  wealthier  citizens,  who  retire  to  them  with  their  families 
for  the  hotter  months,  on  account  of  their  greater  coolness  and  salu- 
brity. 

I  left  next  day  for  Milledgeville,  the  capital  of  Georgia,  between 
which  place  and  Augusta  the  country  resembled  in  its  essential 
features  the  district  intervening  between  the  latter  place  and  Colum- 
bia, with  the  exception  that  we  more  frequently  came  upon  small 
isolated  fertile  tracts  in  the  midst  of  the  gloomy  pine  forests  through 
which  still  lay  our  course.  The  pitch-pine,  which  here  attains  its 
greatest  perfection,  is  a  source  of  considerable  wealth  to  Georgia, 
not  only  in  supplying  the  Union  with  resinous  matter  for  its  con- 
sumption, but  as  affording  the  very  best  material  for  spars,  masts, 
&c.,  for  the  navy,  both  national  and  commercial.  The  live  oak, 
which  is  also  here  met  with,  is  likewise  in  great  demand  for  ship- 
building purposes,  but  it  flourishes  much  better  in  the  lower  districts 
nearer  the  coast. 

Of  Milledoeville  but  very  little  can  be  said.  Its  site,  which  is  on 
the  banks  of  the  Oconee  river,  is  not  ill  chosen,  either  as  regards 
convenience  or  prospect;  but  the  town  itself,  the  grerter  pert  of 
which  resembles  a  straggling  village,  is  devoid  of  interest,  whilst  the 
accommodation  which  it  affords  to  the  traveller  is  not  of  the  best 
description.  I  entered  it  wi.hout  having  formed  any  great  expecta- 
tions of  it,  and  left  it,  as  soon  as  I  could,  with  the  impression  that 
it  was  one  of  the  most  undesirable  places  I  had  yet  visited  in 
America. 


34  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  II. 

FROM     M1LLEDGEVILLE    TO     MACON. RAILWAY    AND     TELEGRAPHIC 

SYSTEMS    OF    THE    UNITED    STATES. 

Journey  by  Stage  to  Macon. — An  American  Stage  Coach. — My  Fellow-passen- 
gers.— The  Road  Difficulties  of  the  journey. — -The  Railway  System  of  the 
United  States. — Its  three  great  features. — The  System  in  the  Basin  of  the 
St.  Lawrence. — The  Sea-coast  System. — The  Central  System. — Prospective 

System  of  Railways  in  the  Great  Valley Extent  of  Railways Extent  of 

Lines  projected, — Effect  of  Railways  and  Canals  upon  the  common  Roads  of 
America. — Facilities  afforded  for  the  Construction  of  Railways  in  America. — 
.Favourable  nature  of  the  Surface  of  the  country. — Cheapness  of  Land. — Cheap- 
ness and  Availability  of  Timber. — Single  Lines — Dividends. — Durability  of 
American  Railways. — Number  of  Trains. — Construction  of  the  Cars. — Plan 
adopted  with  regard  to  Luggage.— No  different  Classes  of  travellers  on  Ameri- 
can Railways. — Unreasonableness  of  this. — Speed — Fares. — The  Electric 
Telegraph  in  America. — Its  triumphs. — Lines  completed,  projected,  and  in 
progress. — Prospects  of  America  in  connexion  with  the  Telegraph. 

IT  was  late  at  night  when  I  left  Milledgeville.  Here,  for  the  first 
time  on  my  way  from  Boston  to  New  Orleans,  I  had  to  betake  myself 
to  a  stage  coach,  the  previous  part  of  the  journey,  extending  over 
upwards  of  1,200  miles,  having  been  entirely  performed  by  railway 
and  steamer.*  In  England,  after  a  long  railway  ride,  the  prospect 
of  a  stage  coach  journey  is  the  reverse  of  disagreeable.  With  a  good 
road,  a  highly  cultivated  afld  picturesque  country,  and  a  well  appointed 
coach,  nothing  can  be  more  delightful  in  the  way  of  travelling  than 
an  outside  seat  on  onte  of  those  old  but  now  almost  traditional  vehicles. 
It  is  a  pity  that  the  utilitarianism  of  the  age  could  not  have  left  us 
some  of  the  poetry  of  travelling.  The  railways  have  swallowed  up 
the  stage  coaches,  and  now  bid  fair  to  devour  one  another. 

The  sooner  the  coach  is  entirely  driven  out  of  the  field  in  America 
the  better,  for  neither  in  itself  nor  iii  its  accompaniments  is  it  poeti- 
cal or  convenient.  Before  entering  it  I  had  the  curiosity  to  examine 
that  which  was  to  convey  me  from  Milledgevile  to  Macon,  about 
thirty  miL's  off,  which  I  was  but  partly  enabled  to  do  by  the  glim- 
mering light  of  a  tin  laitern,  which  had  the  peculiarity  of  never  being 
precisely  where  it  was  wanted.  The  coach  was  a  huge  bulky  con- 
cern, built  mor3  with  a  view  to  strength  than  elegance  of  shape.  It 

*  The  railways  have  since  been  extended  westward. 


•    THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  35 

was  not  long  ere  I  had  reason  to  appreciate  the  policy  of  this.  The 
night  being  dry,  though  dark,  I  mounted  one  of  the  hind  wheels,  as 
the  first  step  of  my  progress  to  an  outside  seat,  a  manoeuvre  by  which 
I  first  became  acquainted  with  the  fact  that  there  was  no  outside 
seats  upon  it,  an  American  stage  being  like  a  canal  boat,  all  hold. 
This  is  a  regulation  which  is  more  the  result  of  necessity  than  choice; 
the  condition  of  the  roads , rendering  it  essential  that  the  centre  of 
gravity  should  be  kept  as  low  as  possible,  an  object  which  is  attained 
by  stowing  all  the  passengers  inside.  In  the  summer  time  as  the 
coach  holds  nine,  and  as  ten  or  eleven  are  sometimes  packed  into  it, 
it  may  easily  be  imagined  that  the  condition  of  the  traveller  is  any- 
thing but  an  enviable  one;  for  when,  gasping,  he  opens  the  window 
for  air,  he  gets  such  a  quantity  of  dust  into  mouth,  nose,  ears,  and 
eyes,  that  he  is  fain  to  shut  it  again  with  all  speed.  In  winter  they 
are  more  comfortable,  as  the  passengers  keep  each  other  warm;  but 
then  the  state  of  the  rords  i&  such  that  they  a.  e  in  constant  appre- 
hension of  being  upset  into  the  mud,  or  upon  the  hard  frozen  ground, 
according 4o  the  temperature;  an  apprehension  which,  in  a journ  y 
of  any  length,  is  seldom  falsified.  On  examining  into  the  state  of 
the  springs,  I  found  that  the  vehicle  rested  upon  two  broad  and 
strong  belts  of  leather,  each  of  which  was  securely  attached  at  either 
end,  to  a  species  of  spring  which  rose  to  the  height  of  about  two 
feet  from  the  axletree.  Ordinr/ry  metal  springs  would  have  been  as 
useless  for  the  support  of  a  machi  e  destined  for  such  service,  as  a 
horse  trained  to  good  roads  would  have  been  for  drawing  it. 

It  was  provided  internally  with  three  sei;t?,  one  at  either  end  and 
one  in  the  middle,  extending  across  from  window  to  window.  The 
back  of  the  middle  seat  consisted  of  a  broad  leather  belt,  which 
could  be  unhooked  at  one  end  for  the  convenience  df  passengers 
making  for,  or  making  from,  the  back  seat.  I  had  not  seen  them 
get  in,  arni  was  therefore  surprised,  on  stepping  in  mysel',  to  find 
every  seat  occupied,  but  one  next  the  window  in  the  middle  of  the 
coach.  No  one  epoke,  and  as  it  was  almost  pitch  dark,  I  could  tell 
neither  the  size,  the  age,  the  sex,  nor  the  complexion  of  my  fellow- 
travellers. 

After  a  great  deal  of  apparently  unnecessary  delay  we  at  length 
moved  off",  the  lumbering  vehicle,  in  passing  through  the  streets  of 
the  town,  rolling  smoothly  enough,  but  Heaving  and  plunging  like  a 
vessel  irv  a  troubled  sea  as  soon  as  we  got  into  the  open  country  road. 

"  We'll  have  a  heavy  ride  of  it,"  said  a  gruff  voice  on  my  left,  for 
the  first  time  breaking  the  silence  which  prevailed.  "  The  rain  have 
been  sweet  here  for  a  day  or  two,  and  made  mush  and  milk  of  the 
roads.15 

"You're  forgetting  that  they're  sandy,  and  that  they'll  be  rather 
hard  than  otherwise  after  the  showers,"  said  the  passenger  imme- 
diately beyond  him  in  a  shrill  falsetto  tone. 


36  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

"  Sandy  here  b'aint  sandy  there,"  replied  the  other,  who  afterwards 
turned  out  to  Le  "  Judge  Fish,"  (a  country  judge  and  not  necessarily 
a  lawyer,)  from  one  of  the  "  river  counties"  of  New  York,  his  com- 
panion being  an  attorney  and  Commissioner  of  Deeds  from  Long 
Island  ;  "  there  are  bits  of  the  salt  marsh  up  here,  young  man,  where 
the  roads  will  be  petick'lar  pretty,  I  reckon." 

He  had  scarcely  spoken  ere  the  coach  gave  a  tremendous  lurch  to 
one  side,  and  for  a  moment  or  two  remained  poised  upon  the  two  lower 
wheels;  but  by  all  inclining  as  much  as  we  could  to  windward,  we  got 
it  restored  to  a  more  secure  position.  It  was  not  without  a  violent 
struggle,  accompanied  by  a  continued  torrent  of  ejaculations  from 
the  driver,  that  our  horses  managed  to  drag  us  from  the  hole  into 
which  the  near  wheels  had  slipped. 

"Hope  the  next  '11  be  no  worse,"  said  the  judge;  whose  obs?rva- 
tions,  in  connexion  with  the  incident,  made  most  of  us  feel  as  if  an 
additional  premium  upon  a  life  policy  would  be  considered  no  great 
hardship  by  us. 

"  Best  to  look  out  for  squalls  in  time,"  he  continued,  at  the  sams 
time  extending  a  hand  on  each  side  and  grasping  with  one  of  them 
the  looped  leather  strap,  which,  hanging  from  the  side  of  the  coach 
close  to  my  shoulder,  seemed  placed  there  more  for  niy  convenience 
than  for  his. 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  your  holding  the  strap  for  security,"  said 
I,  "  but  I  have  a  great  deal  to  your  arm  rubbing  against  my  face." 

"  Sorry  to  oncovenience  you,"  replied  the  judge,  "  but  I'm  holdin' 
on  in  the  same  way  to  the  other  side." 

"That  may  put  the  balance  of  advantages  in  your  favour,  but  not 
in  mine,"  said  I,  getting  somewhat  irritated,  and  not  without  reason, 
at  the  position  in  which  he  placed  himself. 

"  Some  people  are  mighty  petick'ler  about  trifles,"  he  observed, 
as  quitting  his  hold  he  passed  his  arm  behind  me  and  grasped  the 
strap  as  before.  "  I'll  do  anything  reasonable  to  oblige,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  but  self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  nature,  and  I'm  always 
punctual  in  my  observance  of  it." 

After  a  few  minutes'  pause  he  added,  "  Besides,  Pm  doin'  you 
both  a  service,"  alluding  to  the  passenger  on  his  other  side;  "  for  if 
the  coach  tumbles  to  this  side  (mine),  you'll  be  only  hdf  as  much 
squeezed  as  you  would  be  but  for  the  opposite  strap,  whilst  that  on 
your  side  will  serve  this  here  gen'leman  as  good  a  turn,  should  we 
lurch  into  th^  muck  on  his  side." 

There  was  some  comfort  in  this,  and  I  held  my  peace. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  he  resumed,  "  I  have  travelled  a  few, 
that's  a  fack,  and  I  have  found  that  there's  nothing  like  the  middle 
seat  in  these  coaches;  for  if  you  upset  you  have  only  one  passenger 
to  fall  on  you,  when  you  full  softly  on  another.  One  of  you  folks  at 
the  end  may  escape,  but  if  we  get  a  tumble,  the  other  is  sure  to  ha' 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  37 

two  of  us  on  the  top  of  him.  That  mightn't  be  so  comfortable, 
might  it?" 

I  did  not  answer,  but  was  positive  that  it  would  not. 

"  But  only  let  me  hold  on  by  the  upper  side  as  we're  agoin'  over," 
he  said  still  continuing,  "  and  the  lowermost  one  will  have  some 
chance  of  getting  his  bones  whole  to  Macon.  I'm  fourteen  stun' 
weight,  and  would  make  a  mighty  pretty  squash  comin'  down  on 
any  of  you." 

Although  his  precautions  were  dictated  by  the  purest  selfishness 
I  had  reason  to  see  that  I  was  somewhat  interested  in  them,  for  I 
shuddered  at  the  bare  prospect  of  an  upset,  with  the  judge  and  the 
commissioner  both  on  top  of  me. 

On  we  went,  sometimes  rolling  smoothly  for  a  few  yards,  and  then 
plunging  and  rising  again  as  if,  instead  of  being  on  terra  jirma,  we 
were  afloat  and  encountering  a  short  cross  sea.  At  length,  with  a 
jerk  which  nearly  shook  the  vehicle  to  pieces  and  dislocated  every 
bone  in  our  bodies,  we  stuck  fast  in  a  hole  full  of  mud  and  water. 

"  I'm  blow'd  if  we  ha'n't  run  agin'  a  sawyer,"  said  the  judge, 
fancying  himself  for  a  moment  on  the  Mississippi. 

"  Passengers  must  walk  a  bit  here,"  roared  the  driver  from  the 
roof,"  for  we're  aground  and  can't  get  out  of  it  no  how  else." 

"  Walkin's  a  recreation,"  said  the  judge;  "let's  spill  out  and 
have  a  little  of  the  divarsion." 

We  did  spill  out,  but  it  was  only  by  dint  of  a  good  leap  that  we 
cleared  the  hole,  into  which  the  fore-wheels  had  sunk  up  to  the  axle- 
tree.  As  it  was,  we  were  up  to  the  ankles  in  mud,  a  circumstance 
which,  added  to  the  darkness  of  the  night,  made  walking  in  that 
particular  instance  anything  but  a  recreation.  There  was  one  lady 
on  the  back  seat  who  remained  in  ;  but  what  surprised  me  was,  that 
those  on  the  front  seat  did  not  follow  us  out.  On  expressing  my 
surprise  at  this  to  the  judge,  he  simply  observed  that  it  was  easier 
said  than  done  ;  a  remark  the  drift  of  which  I  did  not  comprehend, 
nor  did  I  think  it  worth  while  to  ask  for  an  explanation. 

We  were  about  to  proceed  a  little  in  advance,  when  the  driver 
requested  us  to  remain  where  we  were,  as  we  "  might  be  needed." 
I  was  wondering  what  we  could  be  needed  for,  unless  it  was  to  get 
in  again,  when  the  judge,  afer  watching  for  a  moment  or  two  the 
ineffectual  struggles  of  the  horses  to  rescue  the  coach  from  its  posi- 
tion, observed — "It's  no  use,  we  must  have  the  rail."  He  thereupon 
detached  one  of  the  lamps  from  the  vehicle,  and  proceeded  to  the 
side  of  the  road  to  look  for  the  article  in  question  ;  but  there  being 
no  fence  on  either  hand,  it  was  not  until  we  had  penetrated  for  some 
distance  into  the  forest  that  we  found  a  piece  of  timber  that  would 
answer  the  purpose  of  a  stout  lever.  Returning  with  this,  it  was 
applied  to  the  sunken  wheels,  by  which  means,  after  some  further 

VOL.  II.— 4 


38  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

desperate  struggles  on  the  part  of  the  cattle,  the  vehicle  was  raised 
to  the  natural  level  of  the  road. 

"  Can't  get  in  yet,"  said  the  driver  to  me  as  I  was  about  to  resume 
my  place;  "  the  road's  shockin'  bad  for  the  next  half  mile;  so  walk's 
the  word." 

There  was  no  gainsaying  this,  so  with  the  judge,  the  commissioner 
and  two  fellow-passengers  from  the  back  seat,  I  set  out  in  advance 
of  the  coach.  Before  doing  so,  however,  the  driver  informed  us  that 
it  would  be  advisable  for  us  not  to  part  from  the  pole,  as  we  might 
frequently  require  it  before  we  resumed  our  seats,  and  the  absence 
of  fences  making  it  doubtful  if  we  could  always  procure  an  implement 
so  well  suited  to  our  purpose.  It  was,  therefore,  agreed  that  we 
should  take  it  turn  about,  and  on  the  suggestion  of  the  judge  we 
cast  lots  who  should  first  bear  the  burden.  The  lot  fell  upon  me; 
so  off  we  started,  my  fellow-travellers  leading,  and  I  following  them, 
with  an  immense  log  on  my  shoulder,  as  well  as  I  could.  It  was  so 
dark,  that  it  was  of  no  avail  to  pick  our  steps ;  so  on  we  went,  keep- 
ing as  near  the  side  as  possible,  generally  ankle-deep  in  mud,  and 
sometimes  still  deeper.  The  coach  came  lumbering  after  us  at  a 
snail's  pace,  the  lonely  woods  reverberating  to  the  noisy  eloquence 
which  the  driver  was  unremittingly  expending  upon  his  cattle.  I  was 
about  transferring  the  pole  to  the  commissioner,  to  whom  fate  had 
next  consigned  it,  when  a  cry  of  distress  from  the  above-named  func- 
tionary brought  us  all  back  to  the  coach  again.  The  pole  had  once 
more  to  be  applied  before  it  was  extricated  from  its  difficulties.  We 
took  nearly  three-quarters  of  an  hour  to  get  over  the  half-mile  in 
question,  when  we  found  ourselves  once  more  upon  a  sandy,  and 
consequently  a  firmer  part  of  the  road.  On  getting  in  again,  the 
judge,  who  had  become  jocular  with  our  difficulties,  advised  us  to 
wipe  our  feet  before  entering. 

"  I  told  you  as  how  it  would  eventuate,"  said  he  as  soon  as  we 
were  all  reseated  ;  "  it  wasn't  with  my  eyes  shut  that  I  passed  through 
these  diggins  afore." 

"  I  reckon  not,"  said  the  commissioner,  rendering  tardy  homage 
to  his  companion's  superior  topographical  knowledge. 

The  road,  although  it  fulfilled  none  of  the  conditions  of  a  good 
one,  was  now  for  some  miles  much  better  than  that  which  we  had 
passed  over.  It  was  still  rough  but  we  were  not  every  now  and  then 
brought  to  a  halt  in  the  midst  of  quagmires  as  before.  The  jolting 
of  the  vehicle,  whenever  the  horses  for  a  few  paces  ventured  upon  a 
trot,  was  terrific,  throwing  us  about  in  every  way,  against  each  other 
and  sometimes  against  the  roof.  One  of  these  jolts  sent  me  up- 
wards with  such  force  as  to  knock  my  hat  over  my  eyes.  As  I  was 
extricating  myself  from  my  dilemma,  the  judge  remarked  that  a  hat 
was  rather  an  "onplesent  convenience"  -to  travel  with  in  a  stage; 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  39 

a  proposition  which  I  had  neither  reason  nor  inclination  to  dispute. 
I  immediately  put  mine  in  the  straps  above  me,  but  the  next  jolt 
nearly  sending  my  head  through  the  crown  of  it,  I  was  fain,  for  the 
rest  of  the  road,  to  carry  it  on  my  knee. 

By  this  time  the  judge  and  the  commissioner  had  waxed  very  hot 
on  politics,  the  latter  being  a  Whig,  and  the  former  a  Democrat  of 
the  purest  water.  So  long  as  they  confined  themselves  to  topics  of 
a  general  interest  I  listened,  and  was  both  interested  and  amused  ; 
but  as  soon  as  they  descended  to  matters  peculiarly  appertaining  to 
their  own  State,  my  attention  flagged,  and  I  soon  fell  into  that  listless 
state  in  which  one  hears  everything  without  comprehending  anything. 
I  had  observed  that  ever  since  our  re-entering  the  coach,  the  pas- 
senger directly  opposite  me,  one  of  the  three  who,  as  I  supposed, 
occupied  the  front  seat,  with  their  backs  to  the  horses,  paid  particular 
attention  to  the  position  of  my  boots;  for, not  having  got  out  himself 
in  the  time  of  our  difficulty,  he  was  not  disposed  to  go  shares  in  the 
mud  with  which  our  extremities  were  bedaubed  on  re-entering. 
Finding  him,  at  length,  very  sensitive  to  the  slightest  touch  from  me, 
I  proposed,  for  our  mutual  acomrnodation,  a  settlement  of  legs  such 
as  would  serve  until  our  arrival  at  Macon.  This  was  at  once  as- 
sented to,  not  by  the  man  opposite  me,  but  by  the  man  in  the  middle 
of  the  seat.  I  was  puzzled  to  know  how  a  limb  of  his  could  become 
involved  with  mine,  as  I  was  also  to  ascertain  how  my  fellow-passen- 
ger opposite  had  disposed  of  his.  The  arrangement  proposed,  how- 
ever, took  place  to  our  mutual  satisfaction,  but  my  surprise  was  not 
lessened  when,  on  addressing  a  common-place  remark,  apropos  to  our 
situation,  to  him  opposite  me,  the  response  came  again  from  the  man 
in  the  middle,  whose  voice  was  not  altogether  unfamiliar  to  me, 
although  I  could  Hot  then  recall  to  mind  whose  it  was,  or  were  I 
had  heard  it  before. 

At  lengtruday  began  slowly  to  dawn  behind  us,  and  as  the  grey 
light  gradually  invested  objects  with  a  more  distinct  outline,  1  could 
better  understand  the  character  of  the  road  over  which  we  were 
dragged  and  jolted,  at  the  rate  of  about  four  miles  an  hour.  It  was 
artistic  enough  in  the  manner  in  which  it  had  been  engineered,  but 
its  long  straight  vistas  were  wearisome  to  the  eye.  It  was  about 
sixty  feet  in  breadth,  and  in  those  places  where  it  was  least  sandy 
it  appeared  to  have  been  recently  ploughed.  Indeed,  as  I  afterwards 
ascertained,  the  roads  both  in  Canada  and  the  United  States  become 
sometimes  so  bad  and  impracticable,  that  they  are  decidedly  improved 
by  the  operation  of  ploughing.  On  seeing  it  in  daylight,  my  wonder 
was  not  that  we  had  been  delayed  and  inconvenienced  on  the  way, 
but  that  we  managed  to  make  any  progress  whatever  along  this  great 
southern  highway.  It  is  but  just,  however,  to  say,  that  its  then 
wretched  condition  was  greatly  attributable  to  the  previous  wet 
weather,  for  I  afterwards  found,  that  during  the  long  succession  of 


40  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

dry  weather,  these  crude  American  roads  were  delightful  to  travel 
over,  after  a  gentle  summer  shower  had  fallen  to  keep  down  the  dust. 

The  approach  of  day  also  solved  the  mystery  which  hung  over 
the  occupants  of  the  opposite  seat.  Through  the  dim  twilight  I 
could  at  first  discern  but  one  head  between  the  three,  and  the  in- 
creasing light  soon  convinced  me  that  it  was  the  head  of  Mr. , 

one  of  the  Senatorial  representatives  of  the  State  of  Alabama.  The 
riddle  was  now  explained.  There  was  but  one  passenger  opposite 

instead  of  three.     Mr. was  not  a  body  with  three  heads,  but  he 

was  a  head  with  three  bodies,  or  with  one  which  was  tantamount  to 
three,  for  he  almost  entirely  filled  the  seat.  In  the  Senate,  as  already 
noticed,  his  seat  was  more  like  a  form  than  a  chair,  which  it  pur- 
ported to  be;  and  he  was  familiarly  known  as  the  man  of  greatest 
weight  in  that  body.  As  soon  as  I  was  sure  of  his  identity,  I  accosted 
him,  as  I  had  frequently  had  the  pleasure  of  enjoying  his  society 
at  Washington.  He  was  one  of  the  bulkiest  men  I  ever  beheld  : 
but  his  enormous  physical  proportions  did  not  hamper  his  mind, 
which  was  cool  and  clear.  He  was  a  true  southerner  in  poli- 
tics, being  an  ardent  free-trader,  and  a  staunch  follower  of  Mr. 
Calhoun.  I  had  often  wonderd  how  he  could  exist  under  the  hot 
suns  of  Alabama,  but  he  had  a  preference  for  the  State,  and  said  he 
enjoyed  life  in  it  as  well  as  anywhere  else.  The  wretched  state  of 
the  road,  and  our  night  experiences  of  it,  soon  very  naturally  turned 
our  conversation  upon  the  subject  of  railways;  and  from  what  I 
then  gathered  from  him  in  reference  thereto,  as  well  as  from  my 
own  previous  observations,!  shall  now, with  the  reader's  permission, 
give  a  brief  sketch  of  the  rise,  development  and  extent  of  the  railway 
system  in  America. 

The  stranger  meets  with  nothing  in  the  New  World  more  calcu- 
lated to  excite  his  astonishment  than  the  rapidity  and  extent  with 
and  to  which  all  the  improvements  of  this  ingenious  and  progressive 
age  are  there  applied  to  the  various  purposes  of  social  life.  Our 
cousins  beyond  the  Atlantic  are  no  dreamers,  they  are  in  haste  to 
be  practical;  whatever  is  both  new  and  useful  they  at  once  adopt, 
adapting  it,  in  its  application,  to  their  own  circumstances  and  neces- 
sities. Nor  is  theirs  an  imitation  which  springs  from  servility  ;  it 
begins  in  generous  emulation,  and  not  unfrequently  ends  in  success- 
ful rivalry. 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  a  railway  could  be  long  in  successful 
operation  in  this  country  before  it  was  extensively  imitated  in  the 
United  States. 1  If  the  advantages  of  such  a  system  of  communication 
were  obvious  as  regarded  this  country,  they  were  much  more  so  as 
regarded  America,  considering  not  only  the  distances  by  which  its 
more  important  points  were  separated  from  each  other,  but  also  the 
inferior  nature  of  their  means  of  intercommunication,  when  so 
situated  with  reference  to  each  other  that  steamboats  could  not  ply 
between  them.  Before  the  introduction  of  railways  into  America, 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  41 

canals  formed  the  only  decent  means  of  communication  between 
such  points  as  lay  neither  upon  the  coast,  the  lakes,  nor  on  the 
margin  of  great  rivers.  On  these  canals  the  maximum  rate  of  speed 
seldom  exceeded  four  miles  an  hour;  so  that  if  long  journeys  could 
be  performed  by  their  means  without  broken  bones,  or  a  serious 
wear  and  tear  of  the  system,  they  could  only  be  accomplished  at 
great  expence,  and  with  a  great  loss  of  time.  All  this  contributed 
to  make  distances  as  much  the  curse  of  the  United  States  as  they 
are  said  to  be  of  Russia;  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  our  enterprising 
kinsfolk  eagerly  availed  themselves  of  a  discovery,  the  adaptation  of 
which  to  their  wants  was  as  practicable  as  it  was  obvious,  inasmuch 
as  in  travelling  it  would  not  only  greatly  diminish  expense,  but  save 
much  time,  by  almost  annihilating  space.  In  addition  to  this,  the 
Americans  have,  ever  been  a  people  peculiarly  addicted  to  locomotion; 
so  that,  whilst  the  introduction  of  rail  ways  was  a  welcome  event,  every- 
thing conspired  to  accelerate  their  multiplication  in  the  United  States. 

The  extent  to  which  the  railway  system  has  already  developed 
itself  there  is  truly  surprising;  whilst  the  schemes  which  are  as  yet 
only  projected,  are  on  a  scale  of  vastness  utterly  bewildering  to  those 
who  are  unacquainted  with  the  nature,  the  capacities,  and  the  wants 
of  the  country.  But  it  is  not  my  intention  to  trouble  the  reader 
with  any  detail  as  to  the  projected  schemes,  my  sole  object  being 
here  to  give  him,  as  it  were,  a  picture  of  the  system  as  already  com- 
pleted and  in  operation. 

The  railways  of  America  as  already  completed  divide  themselves 
into  three  great  systems, corresponding  with  the  great  natural  features 
of  the  country.  The  first,  and  most  northerly  of  these  systems,  is 
that  which  permeates  the  Valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence;  the  next,  that 
which  follows  the  course  of  the  great  sea-coast  region,  lying  between 
the  Atlantic  and  the  Alleghanies ;  and  the  third  being  collateral  to 
that  last  named,  and  diverging  from  it  principally  through  the 
defiles  of  the  Alleghanies  to  the  Valley  of  the  M  ississippi.  The  most 
northerly  branch  of  the  system  first  named,  is  that  leading  from 
Portland,  on  the  coast  of  Maine,  to  Montreal,  the  capital  of  Canada. 
The  moiety  of  this  line  falls  within  the  limits  of  Canada,  but  I  clai-s 
it  amongst  American  railways  belonging  to  the  St.  Lawrence  system, 
although  one  of  its  termini  may  be  in  a  different  jurisdiction.  We 
have  then,  a  considerable  distance  to  the  south  of  this,  the  great  line 
leading  from  Boston  to  Buffalo,  a  distance  of  nearly  550  miles.  It 
is  true,  that  the  greater  portion  of  this  line  is  within  the  territory  of 
New  England,  and  the  Valley  of  the  Mohawk  immediately  to  the 
west  of  it ;  that  portion  of  it  alone  which  lies  beyond  the  small  lakes 
which  divide  eastern  from  western  New  York,  being  strictly  within 
the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  But  from  Boston  to  Buffalo  is  one 
great  system  of  railway  communication,  which  will  yet  receive  its 
chief  development  in  that  basin,  being  yet  destined  to  expand  into 

4* 


42  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

lengthened  and  numerous  ramifications  on  both  sides  of  the  great 
lakes,  in  Canada,  as  well  as  in  the  United  States.     The  portion  of 
it  lying  without   the  basin,  and    particularly  that  extending   from 
Albany,  on  the  Hudson,  to  Boston,  a  distance  of  200  miles,  derives 
its  chief  importance  from  its  connexion  with  the  lines  already  con- 
structed in  the  remote  interior,  and  will  yet  owe  its  chief  value  to 
the  ramified  development  which  these  lines  will  yet  receive  through- 
out the  vast  and  fertile  districts  bordering  upon  the  great  lakes.    The 
Portland  and  Montreal  railway,  after  crossing  the  northern  section 
of  the  State  of  Maine,  enters  Canada  and  the  Valley  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence near  the  ''Eastern  Townships,"  after  passing  through  which 
it  pursues  its  way  to  Montreal,  along  the  low  flat  grounds  by  which, 
above  Quebec,  the  river  is  chiefly  skirted  on  its  southern  side.     Jt 
leads  the  traveller  from  the  coast  at  once  into  the  heart  of  Canada, 
and  will  be  of  great  service  to  the  province  during  the  winter  season, 
when  all  other  means  of  readily  communicating  with  the  open  sea 
are  interrupted  by  the  frost.     The  greatest  drawback  to  this  line 
will  be  found  in  the  rather  dangerous  character  of  the  broken  and 
deeply-indented  coast  of  Maine.    Portland  is  one  of  the  best  harbours 
which  it  affords,  but  in  making  it,  it  is  necessary  to  have  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  the   coast,  and  to  use  the  greatest  circumspection. 
Once  at  Montreal  the  traveller  can  easily  and  rapidly  gain  the  upper 
portion  of  the  province  by  steamer,  which  will  convey  him,  flanking 
the  rapids  by  means  of  short  canals,  the  whole  way  to  Kingston,  at 
the  foot  of  Lake  Ontario,  from  which  point  a  water  communication 
with  the  entire  west  opens  before  him.     There  can  be  no  doubt 
but  that  at  no  very  distant  day  Montreal  and  Kingston  will  be  con- 
nected by  railway,  as  will  also  Kingston  and  Toronto,  when  a  short 
line  from  the  last-mentioned  place  to  Lake  Huron  will  complete 
the  chain,  pursuing  the  north  bank  of  the  river  above  Montreal, 
from  the  ocean  to  the  Far  West.     Its  entire  length  will  be  about 
900  miles.     The  line  from  Boston,  pursuing  a  parallel  course  more 
to  the  south,  crosses  the  Hudson  River  at  Albany,  the  Capital  of 
New  York,  at  which  pfoint  Montreal  is  several  hundred  miles  almost 
due  north  of  it;  and  proceeding  from  Albany  westward,  along  the 
Valley  of  the  Mohawk,  enters  western  New  York,  after  crossing  Lake 
Cayuga  by  a  stupendous  wooden  bridge,  from  which  point  it  runs 
for  upwards  of  150  miles  still  further  westward,  until  it  abuts  on 
Lake  Erie  at  the  town  of  Buffalo.     This  highway  to  the  West  is 
independent  of  Canada,  passing  Lake  Ontario  altogether,  which  it 
leaves   considerably  to   the    north  of  it,  and   terminating   on    the 
American  bank  of  Lake  Erie.     To   almost  the  whole  of  Canada 
West,  however,  it  is  a  better  means  of  approach  than  the  other  route, 
for  at  Rome,  in  the  centre  of  New  York,  a  branch  line  diverges  to 
Osvvego,  whence  the  traveller  can  be  conveyed  by  steam  to  any  of 
the  Canadian  ports  on  Lake  Ontario.     From  the  city  of  Rochester 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  43 

also,  through  which  the  railway  passes,  he  can  proceed  by  the  Lake 
either  to  Toronto  or  Hamilton,  from  which  places  Rochester  is 
about  equidistant;  or  he  may  leave  the  main  line  at  Lockport,  and 
proceed  by  a  branch  to  Lewistown,  from  which,  about  seven  miles 
below  the  Falls,  he  can  cross  the  Niagara  River,  a  link  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  into  Canada,  at  Queenston.  If  again  his  destination  be 
some  point  still  further  west  in  the  province,  he  need  not  leave  the 
railway  until  he  arrives  at  Buffalo,  from  which  he  can  be  easily 
ferried  across.  If  he  is  bound  for  the  extreme  west  of  the  province, 
lie  may  be  conveyed  by  steamer  from  Buffalo  to  Detroit,  the  capital 
of  Michigan,  between  which  and  the  extremity  of  Canada  in  this 
direction,  the  narrow  channel  of  the  St.  Clair,  another  link  of  the 
St.  Lawrence,  alone  intervenes.  This  line,  therefore,  is  as  con- 
venient as  an  approach  from  the  coast  to  Canada  West,  as  it  is  to 
the  north-western  States  of  the  Union:  the  point  at  which  the  tra- 
veller bound  for  Canada  leaves  it  depending  upon  the  part  of  the 
province  which  he  has  selected  as  his  destination. 

Before  this.great  system,  thus  developing  itself,  as  we  have  seen, 
on  both  sides  of  the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  with  the  great  lakes 
for  the  most  part  between,  is  perfected,  a  trunk  line,  with  branches 
running  southward,  will  have  to  be  constructed  along  the  southern 
shore  of  Lake  Erie,  extending  through  the  north-western  corner  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  the  northern  part  of  Ohio,  to  the  State  of  Michi- 
gan. Across  the  neck  of  the  peninsula  forming  this  State,  a  line  is 
now  in  process  of  formation  which  will  connect  the  upper  portion 
of  Lake  Erie  with  the  lower  end  of  Lake  Michigan.  From  St. 
Joseph's,  the  terminus  of  this  line  on  the  latter  lake,  the  traveller 
can  proceed  by  steamer  to  Chicago  in  Illinois,  or  Milwaukie  in  Wis- 
consin. The  line  to  be  constructed  between  Buffalo  and  Michigan 
will,  with  its  branches,  serve  more  as  a  convenience  to  the  great  and 
fertile  district  lying  between  these  two  points,  and  to  the  south  of 
Lake  Erie,  than  as  a  link  in  the  more  direct  chain  of  communica- 
tion between  the  coast  and  the  Far  West.  The  direct  line  between 
the  two  extremities  of  the  system  will  pass  from  Amherstburg,  almost 
opposite  Detroit,  to  Hamilton,  at  the  head  of  Lake  Ontario,  across 
the  peninsula  of  Western  Canada.  From  Hamilton  passengers  will 
be  conveyed  by  steamer  to  Rochester,  where  they  will  join  the  por- 
tion of  the  line  running  through  New  York.  This  will  avoid  the 
tedious  navigation  of  the  whole  length  of  Lake  Erie,  or  the  serious 
detour  by  railway  from  Detroit  to  Buffalo. 

Such  is  the  railway  system  in  the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  as  it  is, 
and  as  it  is  to  be.  Much  of  it  has  been  already  completed,  but  it  is  yet 
in  the  infancy  of  its  development.  The  main  line,  extending  from 
Boston  westward,  has  nurn°rous  branches  in  its  course,  both  through 
Massachusetts  and  New  York,  which  in  this  general  view  of  the 
system  are  not  worth  particularising.  Portland  and  Boston  are  not 


44:  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

its  only  outlets  on  the  coast;  for,  from  Albany,  New  York  is  as  easily 
attainable,  in  summer,  by  the  Hudson,  as  Boston  is  by  railway.  In 
winter,  however,  the  river  is  useless;  and  if  New  York  would  retain 
its  share  of  the  winter  traffic  of  the  West,  it  must  construct  a  railway 
along  the  left  bank  of  the  river. 

A  great  Stale  railway,  extending  for  about  400  miles  through  the 
southern  counties  of  the  State,  is  already  partly  completed,  which 
will  put  New  York  in  direct  railway  communication  with  the  Far 
West.  This  line  is  designed  to  connect  the  Hudson,  a  short  distance 
above  the  city,  with  Lake  Erie  at  Dunkirk,  some  distance  above 
Buffalo;  but  it  is  obvious  that,  although  it  may  secure  the  city  at 
all  times  of  the  year  a  portion  of  the  traffic  of  the  extreme  west,  this 
line  will  be  of  no  avail  to  it  as  regards  Canada,  and  the  greater  and 
better  portion  of  western  New  York.  The  New  York  arid  Erie 
railroad  was  undertaken  more  with  a  view  to  satisfy  the  southern 
counties  of  the  State,  the  people  of  which  grumbled  at  being  so 
entirely  eclipsed  by  the  northern  counties,  which  monopolized  the 
Erie  canal  as  well  as  the  railways,  than  from  a  sense  of  its  utility. 
The  importance  of  this  system,  even  in  its  present  state  of  partial 
completion,  is  obvious,  when  we  consider  the  vast  region  to  which 
it  affords  an  outlet ;  aid  its  value  when  perfected,  as  it  yet  undobtedly 
will  be,  may  be  appreciated  by  reflecting  that,  commencing  in  the 
Far  West,  arid  proceeding  by  the  two  great  and  parallel  branches 
along  the  two  sides  of  the  vast  basin  which  it  will  permeate,  with 
the  volume  of  Lake  Erie  and  that  of  Lake  Ontario  between  them, 
which  branches  will  have  their  tributary  lines  diverging  from  them 
in  all  directions,  it  will  concentrate  with  facility  upon  the  coast  at 
Portland,  Boston,  and  New  York,  the  trade  and  traffic  of  the  two 
Canada?,  of  the  State  of  New  York,  of  a  great  portion  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, of  the  northern  half  of  Ohio,  of  the  whole  of  Michigan,  of 
considerable  sections  of  Indiana  and  Illinois,  and  of  nearly  the  whole 
of  Wisconsin. 

The  line  from  Boston  westward,  as  already  completed,  leads  from 
that  city  by  the  towns  of  Springfield  and  Pittsfield;  and  through  the 
highlands  of  New  England,  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles,  to 
Greenbush,  opposite  Albany  en  the  Hudson.  The  river  is  crossed 
by  steam  ferry-boat;  after  which  the  railway,  recommencing  at 
Albany,  and  passing  through  the  city  of  Schenectady,  conveys  the 
passenger  a  distance  of  ninety  miles  to  the  city  of  Utica.  From 
this  point  the  line  is  prolonged  by  continuous  links,  in  the  hands  of 
several  companies,  through  the  towns  of  Rome,  Syracuse,  Auburn, 
Geneva,  and  Canandaioua,  to  the  city  of  Rochester,  a  distance  of 
140  miles.  From  Rochester  other  companies  prolong  it  for  a  further 
distance  of  ninety  miles,  through  Batavia  and  Lockport,  arid  by  the 
Falls  of  Niagara,  to  Buffalo,  the  whole  length  of  the  trunk  line  being 
thus  upwards  of  500  miles. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  45 

Tn  about  forty  hours  after  he  lands  at  Boston  the  traveller  may, 
by  this  line,  find  himself  at  the  Falls  of  Niagara ;  so  that  in  the 
months  of  May,  June,  and  July,  when  short  passages  of  the  Atlantic 
are  made,  a  party  proceeding  from  Liverpool  might  be  upon  Table 
Rock,  in  full  view  of  the  cataract,  on  the  fifteenth  or  sixteenth  day 
after  their  departure.  Such  are  the  triumphs  of  railways  and  steam  ! 

Boston  may  be  also  regarded  as  the  starting  point  of  the  coast 
system  of  railways.  As  already  shown,  this  city  is  united  to  New 
York  by  three  distinct  lines  of  railway  communication.  Two  of 
these  terminate  on  the  coast,  one  at  Stoningvon,  and  the  other  at 
Alleyn's  Point  on  the  River  Thames,  a  little  above  New  London  ; 
the  remainder  of  the  journey  being  performed  up  the  Sound  by 
steamer.  The  third  line  is  more  circuitous  as  a  railway  communi- 
cation, being  that  by  the  Long  Island  railway;  the  only  interruption 
to  which,  as  an  unbroken  line,  is  in  the  ferry  between  Alleyn's  Point 
and  the  island.  Brooklyn,  the  New  York  terminus  of  the  line, 
situated  on  the  western  extremity  of  the  island,  is  in  reality,  although 
a  city  with  a  corporation  of  its  own,  one  of  the  suburbs  of  New  York, 
with  which  it  is  in  communication  at  several  points  by  means  of 
steam  ferry-boats  starting  every  five  minutes  from  either  side.  In 
addition  to  these,  a  new  and  more  direct  line  has  recently  been  pro- 
jected, which,  passing  chiefly  through  the  States  of  Massachusetts 
and  Connecticut  will  unite  the  two  cities  without  the  intervention 
of  any  steamers  or  ferry-boats  whatever. 

The  next  link  in  the  chain  of  the  coast  system  is  that  uniting 
New  York  to  Philadelphia.  If  the  former,  which  is  already  a  triple, 
promises  ere  long  to  be  a  quadruple  one,  this  is  at  least  a  double 
link  in  the  chain.  From  Jersey  City  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
Hudson,  and  within  ten  minutes'  reach  of  New  York  by  steam  ferry- 
boat, the  New  York  and  Philadelphia  line  extends,  passing  by  New- 
ark, New  Brunswick,  Princeton,  Trenton,  and  New  Burlington,  all 
in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  to  the  small  town  of  Camden,  on  the 
eastern  bank  of  the  Delaware,  and  directly  opposite  Philadelphia. 
This  line,  the  whole  of  which  is  within  the  limits  of  New  Jersey, 
and  for  the  right  of  way  of  which  the  company  pays  to  the  State 
treasury  so  much  a  head  for  every  passenger  conveyed  by  it,  is  that 
exclusively  used  during  the  winter  season,  when  the  Delaware  is 
impassable  from  ice.  During  summer,  however,  passengers  generally 
proceed  from  a  little  beyond  Trenton  to  Philadelphia  by  the  river, 
the  steamer  which  conveys 'them  sailing  at  a  rate  equal  to  average 
railway  speed.  There  is  another  line  of  railway  which  extends  from 
Amboy  to  Camden,  the  former  being  a  seaport  of  New  Jersey  on 
Raritan  Bay,  and  approachable  from  New  York,  from  which  it  is 
from  thirty  to  forty  miles  distant,  by  the  devious  and  romantic  passage 
known  as  Staten  Island  Sound.  This  route,  however,  is  more  used 
for  goods,  than  for  passenger  traffic. 


46  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

The  next  link  in  the  chain  is  that  leading  from  Philadelphia  to 
Baltimore.  The  line  connecting  these  two  cities,  and  passing,  in 
its  course,  through  the  State  of  Delaware,  is  unbroken,  except  at  the 
Susquehannah,  the  estuary  of  which  is  both  too  broad  and  too  deep 
to  bridge,  passengers  and  goods  being  conveyed  across  by  steam. 
Starting  from  the  Delaware,  this  line  crosses  successively  the  Schuyl- 
kill  near  Philadelphia,  the  Brandywine  near  Wilmington  (Delaware), 
the  Susquehannah  by  ferry  at  Havre-de-Grace,  and  the  Gunpowder 
Creek,  by  a  long  wooden  viaduct  between  the  last  named  place  and 
Baltimore.  During  the  winter  season,  it  is  the  only  line  of  com- 
munication between  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore.  There  is  a  summer 
route,  however,  generally  selected  by  passengers  during  that  season, 
and  which,  like  some  of  those  already  adverted  to,  combines  steam- 
boat with  railway  travelling.  Proceeding  by  this  route,  the  traveller 
first  descends  the  Delaware  for  about  40  or  50  miles,  from  Phila- 
delphia to  New  Castle,  in  the  State  of  Delaware.  From  New  Castle 
he  is  then  conveyed  to  Frenchtown,  by  a  railway  sixteen  miles  in 
length,  over  the  narrow  isthmus  which  here  separates  the  estuary  of 
the  Delaware  from  Chesapeake  Bay.  From  Frenchtown,  which  is 
at  the  head  of  the  bay,  he  proceeds  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Baltimore 
by  steamer.  This  is  the  more  pleasant  journey  of  the  two  in  summer, 
but  the  quicker  route  is,  of  course,  that  which  leads  directly  by  rail- 
way;  one  train  per  day  generally  running  from  and  to  both  cities, 
for  the  accommodation  of  such  as  wish  to  proceed  by  it. 

In  the  short  line  extending  from  Baltimore  to  Washington  we 
have  the  next  link  in  the  chain,  and  it  is  at  the  latter  place  that  we 
encounter  the  first  serious  break  in  the  long  and  continuous  line  of 
railway  communication  from  Boston.  Proceeding  southward  from 
Washington,  the  traveller  descends  the  Potomac  for  forty  miles,  to 
the  Aquia  Creek,  on  the  Virginia  shore,  where  the  line  of  railway, 
snapped,  as  it  were,  at  the  capital,  recommences.  From  this  point, 
in  a  direction  almost  due  north  and  south,  it  traverses  the  Stale  of 
Virginia,  through  Fredericksburg,  Richmond  and  Petersburg,  enter- 
ing the  State  of  North  Carolina  at  Weldon,  through  which,  passing 
by  Raleigh,  it  pursues  almost  the  same  course  to  Wilmington. 
Here,  having  first  diverged  from  the  coast  towards  the  interior  at 
New  York,  and  having  pursued  a  course  more  or  less  parallel  to  it 
for  about  GOO  miles,  it  abuts  upon  the  Atlantic.  At  first  sight,  this 
would  appear  to  terminate  the  railway  system  under  consideration. 
But  not  so,  for  the  sea-coast  region,  in  w'hich  it  developes  itself,  and 
the  principal  points  of  which  it  is  designed  to  connect,  flunking  the 
Alleghanies,  whose  long  and  varied  chain  subsides  into  the  rich  allu- 
vial flats  of  Alabama,  extends  westward  by  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  to 
the  delta  of  the  Mississippi.  From  Wilmington  to  Charleston  there 
is  another  serious  break  in  the  line  of  railway  following  the  course 
of  this  region,  the  passage  between  these  two  points  being  made 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  47 

along  the  coast  for  about  130  miles  by  steamer.  At  Charleston, 
however,  the  traveller  finds  himself  once  more  on  the  rail,  the  South 
Carolina  railway,  from  that  city  to  Augusta,  being  the  next  link  in 
the  system.  Here  Georgia  contributes  her  contingent  to  this  long 
and  imporant  chain  of  communication,  the  line  of  railway  proceed- 
ing from  Augusta  to  Milledgeville,  and  being,  by  this  time,  prolonged 
still  further  to  the  westward.  The  central  railway  in  Georgia  con- 
nects Macon  with  Savannah  on  the  coast,  but  it  is  to  be  regarded 
more  as  an  important  branch  than  as  a  constituent  link  of  the  direct 
and  main  line.  From  Macon  to  New  Orleans  the  communication 
by  railway  is  not  yet  complete,  but  a  very  few  years  will  suffice  to 
make  it  so.  This  will  terminate  the  railway  system  in  question, 
unless  it  is  afterwards  found  expedient  to  push  it  still  westward 
across  the  Sabine,  and  along  the  Texan  coast  to  Galveston  and 
Houston,  and  across  the  Neuces  to  Matarnoras;  after  which,  having 
crossed  the  Rio  Grande,  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  not  yet  be 
continued  southward  to  Vera  Cruz.  But  waiving  speculation  as  to 
what  may  be  done,  and  confining  attention  simply  to  what  has  been 
effected,  we  find,  with  two  exceptions,  one  at  Washington  and  the 
other  at  Wilmington,  an  unbroken  line  of  railway  communication, 
extending  froni  Boston  in  New  England  to  beyond  Macon  in  Geor- 
gia, a  distance  of  upwards  of  1,200  miles.  Deducting  the  part  of 
the  journey  made  on  the  Potomac,  and  that  effected  by  steam  between 
Wilmington  and  Charleston,  we  have,  between  the  two  points,  nearly 
1,100  miles  of  railway  communication.  When  the  scheme  is  com- 
pleted to  New  Orleans,  the  length  of  line  which  it  will  embrace, 
independently  of  branches,  will  exceed  1,600  miles. 

The  object  of  this  great  railway  system  is  a  double  one — to  unite 
together  the  chief  commercial  and  industrial  communities  of  the 
sea-board,  and  to  facilitate  the  intercourse  between  the  North  and 
the  South.  Considering  the  character  and  resources  of  the  exten- 
sive region  which  it  thus  belts  together,  embracing,  as  it  does,  within 
its  limits,  the  whole  of  the  original  States  of  the  Union,  it  is  not  to 
be  wondered  at  that  its  tributary  branches  are  both  numerous  and 
important.  To  specify  these,  however,  in  detail,  would  interfere 
with  the  general  view  which  alone  is  here  taken  of  the  railway  system 
in  America. 

The  third  and  last  scheme  of  railways  which  attracts  attention  is 
that  which  is,  as  it  were,  collateral  to  the  coast  system,  diverging 
westward  from  that  system  at  different  points,  penetrating  the  defiles 
of  the  Alleghanies,  arid  extending  to  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi.  * 
The  most  northerly  manifestation  of  this  system  is  to  be  found  in 
the  Pennsylvania  railways ;  uniting,  by  means  of  successive  links,  the 
Delaware  with  the  Ohio.  With  Philadelphia  as  their  starting  point, 
Pittsburg  may  be  regarded  as  their  terminus  west  of  the  mountains, 
that  city  being  situated  at  the  Confluence  of  the  Monongahela  and 


48  THE  WESTERN   WORMD. 

Alleghany,  which  there  unite  and  form  the  Ohio.  The  Baltimore 
and  Ohio  railway  constitutes  the  next  branch  of  this  scheme.  This 
line,  commencing  at*  Baltimore,  ascends,  for  some  distance,  the 
valley  of  the  Patapsco,  which  it  leaves  for  that  of  the  Potomac,  a 
little  below  Harper's  Ferry,  where  it  crosses  the  latter  river  into  Vir- 
ginia, and  whence  it  proceeds  westward  to  Cumberland,  which  is 
about  180  miles  distant  from  Baltimore.  Here,  for  the  present,  it 
terminates,  the  design  being  to  carry  it  on  until  it  reaches  the  Ohio,  a 
considerable  distance  below  Pittsburg.  This  linens  destined  to  be 
one  of  transcendent  importance  in  the  communication  between  the 
East  and  the  West.  The  parallel  branch  of  the  system,  extending 
through  Pennsylvania,  has  about  it  more  of  a  local  importance  than 
this  has,  the  Pennsylvania  branch  being  interfered  with  as  a  medium 
of  direct  communication  between  the  two  great  sections  of  the 
country,  by  the  system  of  railways  already  considered  as  partly 
developed  in  New  York.  But  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  railway, 
situated  further  to  the  South,  has  more  of  a  general  than  a  local 
importance,  being  yet  destined  to  be  the  great  highway  for  passen- 
gers between  the  great  valley  to  the  west  and  the  Atlantic  States  to 
the  east  of  the  mountains,  and  south  of  the  Hudson. 

Of  this  system  these  are  the  only  two  great  branches  as  yet  fully 
or  partly  completed.  That  others  will  soon  be  added  to  them  is 
obvious,  considering  both  the  necessities  which  will  arise  for  their 
construction,  and  the  conveniences  which  the  country  affords,  in 
many  points,  for  their  comparatively  inexpensive  erection.  There 
can  be  but  little  doubt,  for  instance,  but  that  a  great  line  of  railway, 
ascending  the  valley  of  the  James  from  Richmond,  will  yet  proceed 
westward  through- Virginia  to  the  Ohio.  A  great  oblique  line,  to 
unite  the  valley  with  the  coast  at  Charleston,  is  already  in  contem- 
plation, a  company  existing  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  it  into  effect. 
This  line,  which,  when  complete,  will  be  718  miles  in  length,  will 
commence  at  Cincinnati,  on  the  Ohio,  and  proceeding  by  Louisville, 
the  capital  of  Kentucky,  will  descend  through  Tennessee  to  Augusta 
in  Georgia,  where  it  will  join  the  South  Carolina  railway,  which  has 
already  been  purchased  by  the  company  as  the  last  link  of  their 
intended  chain  from  Cincinnati  to  Charleston. 

If,  in  this  rapid  sketch  of  the  railway  system  in  America,  no 
mention  has  been  made  of  any  scheme  more  particularly  identified 
with  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi,  it  has  been  because  no  such  scheme 
has  as  yet  been  developed.  Here  and  there  short  arid  comparatively 
unimportant  lines  may  be  found  within  the  limits  of  the  valley; 
whilst  portions  of  those  forming,  or  to  form  the  system  last  consi- 
dered have  penetrated,  or  will  yet  penetrate  more  or  less  into  it; 
but  no  great 'scheme,  having  an  exclusive  reference  to  the  valley  it- 
self, has  as  yet  been  contemplated,  far  less  carried  into  effect.  Popu- 
lation is  still  too  widely  scattered  there  to  justify  the  expense  of 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  49 

constructing  such  lines  of  communication  between  its  more  important 
points,  situated  as  they  are  at  such  enormous  distances  from  e^ch 
other;  whilst  the  numerous  navigable  rivers  with  which  the  region 
abounds  in  every  direction,  amply  minister  to  its  existing  necessities 
in  the  way  of  traffic  and  locomotion.  Besides,  for  the  present,  the 
intercourse  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  is  more  with  the  sea- 
board than  with  one  another,  rendering  lines  connecting  the  East 
with  the  West  more  important  to  them  now  than  a  network  of  rail- 
ways could  be  in  the  valley  itself.  When  the  necessity  for  them 
there  shall  rise,  there  will  not  be  wanting  capital  for  their  construc- 
tion, whilst  the  nature  of  the  country  will  be  found  to  be  such  as  to 
throw  every  possible  facility  in  the  way  of  their  completion.  When- 
ever a  railway  scheme  shall  be  developed  in  the  great  valley,  the 
railways  penetrating  the  mountains,  and  connecting  the  sea-board 
with  the  far  interior,  will  constitute  a  central  system,  uniting,  as  it 
were,  by  indestructible  ligaments,  the  railway  systems  of  the  Atlantic 
and  the  Western  States. 

Such  is  the  foundation  of  the  system  of  railways  which  this  country 
is  yet  destined  to  possess.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  outline  of  the 
picture  is  not  yet  complete,  far  less  the  filling  up.  The  dimensions 
which  it  will  yet  attain  will  only  be  limited  by  the  requirements  of 
the  people.  What  these  requirements  will  be  when  all  the  re- 
sources of  the  country  are  called  into  play,  and  when  it  teems  with 
a  population  proverbially  addicted  to  locomotion,  and  but  ill  provided 
with  other  means  of  intercommunication  by  land,  it  is  not  easy  to 
foresee. 

The' number  of  miles  of  railway  already  constructed  in  the  United 
States  exceeds  5,700.  Of  this  aggregate,  nearly  2,000  miles  are 
within  the  limits  of  New  England  and  New  York  alone.  In  Massa- 
chussetts  itself  there  are  no  less  than  783  miles  of  railway,  whilst 
there  are  completed  and  in  actual  operation  in  New  York  758  miles 
of  road.  Of  the  New  York  and  Erie  railway,  traversing  the  southern 
counties  of  that  State,  but  a  small  portion  is  as  yet  finished.  When 
it  is  completed  throughout  its  entire  length,  which  will  be  about  450 
miles,  the  number  of  miles  of  railway  in  operation  in  New  York 
will  exceed  1,100.  So  much  for  what  is  done.  As  to  what  remains 
to  be  effected,  charters  of  incorporation  and  rights  of  way  have  already 
been  conceded  for  nearly  4,000  miles  more;  so  that  when  the  roads 
for  the  construction  of  which  companies  are  already  formed  are 
completed,  there  will  be  upwards  of  9,000  miles  of  railway  in  the 
United  States. 

The  population  of  the  United  States  has  just  been  spoken  of  as 
but  ill  provided  with  other  means  of  personal  intercommunication 
by  land.  In  England,  and  throughout  a  great  part  of  Europe,  in 
addition  to  the  railway,  there  is  the  well-constructed  and  convenient 
highway,  over  which  it  is  not  only  easy  but  pleasant  to  glide.  In 

VOL.  II.— 5 1 


50  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

the  United  States  the  lattej-  is  almost  unknown.  The  great  national 
road,  a  macadamized  highway,  leading  from  Baltimore  westward, 
and  at  one  time  designed  to  penetrate  to  St.  Louis — a  design  now 
abandoned  on  account  of  the  alleged  want  of  constitutional  power 
on  the  part  of  Congress  to  accomplish  such  an  undertaking — is  the 
only  specimen,  on  anything  like  a  large  scale,  of  a  good  and  con- 
venient highway  in  the  Union.  Generally  speaking,  the  roads 
leading  in  different  directions  from  the  larger  towns,  are  macad- 
amized for  a  few  miles  out;  whilst  between  Albany  and  Troy  there 
is  an  excellent  road  of  this  description,  of  about  seven  miles  in  length. 
But,  with  these  exceptions,  the  American  roads  are  yet  compara- 
tively in  a  state  of  nature;  each  man,  particularly  in  the  north,  being 
compelled  by  Jaw  to  keep  them  as  practicable  as  possible  where  they 
lead  through  his  own  property,  the  plough  being  the  only  effective 
remedy  for  them  when,  from  neglect  or  from  the  nature  of  the  soil, 
they  become  periodically  reduced  to  a  state  of  utter  impracticability. 
For  a  few  months  in  summer  they  are  pleasant  and  feasible  enough, 
but  in  spring  and  during  the  "  Fall,"  as  the  autumn  of  the  year  is 
universally  called,  they  are  only  to  be  attempted  in  cases  of  sheer 
necessity.  The  same  may  be  said  of  them  in  winter,  when  they  are 
denuded  of  snow,  and  frozen  as  hard  as  granite,  with  their  surface 
as  rough  as  that  of  a  shelled  walnut.  The  railways  and  canals  came 
too  soon  for  the  sake  of  the  common  highways  in  America.  In 
addition  to  the  enormous  expense  of  properly  improving  them,  there 
is  now  in  their  comparative  inutility,  at  least  so  far  as  great  distances 
between  important  points  are  concerned,  the  railways  or  navigable 
rivers  having,  in  such  cases,  monopolized  the  traffic.  It  will  be  long, 
therefore,  ere  America  exhibits  to  the  eye  that  pleasing  feature  of 
material  civilization,  a  net  work  of  good  common  highways.  The 
American  may  plead,  and  not  without  reason,  that  material  civiliza- 
tion is,  in  all  its  features,  the  offspring  of  necessity,  and  that  such 
roads  will  appear  in  America  as  soon  as  the  want  for  them  becomes 
urgent.  The  necessity  will  not  arise  until  the  population  greatly 
increases  in  density, 'when  railways  and  steamers  can  only  accom- 
modate a  portion  of  the  intercourse  of  civilized  life.  But,  in  the 
meantime,  they  find  their  railways  and  great  rivers  adequate  to  the 
meeting  of  their  necessities ;  the  common  roads,  bad  as  they  are, 
being  sufficient  for  the  shorter  traffic,  particularly  if  the  time  for 
taking  them  be  properly  chosen. 

In  estimating  what  our  transatlantic  kindred  have  done  in  the  way 
of  railways,  we  must  not  overlook  the  facilities  which,  in  more  ways 
than  one,  America  affords  for  their  construction.  In  the  first  place, 
nothing  could  be  better  adapted  for  such  undertakings  than  the  sur- 
face of  the  country.  It  has  been  my  lot  to  travel  for  thousands  of 
miles  upon  railways  in  America,  and,  with  the  exception  of  one  or 
two  of  the  Pennsylvania  lines,  I  do  not  recollect  encountering  a 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  51 

tunnel  upon  any  of  them.  Whether  they  follow  the  course  of  streams, 
or  traverse  the  surface  of  the  vast  plains  with  which  the  country  in 
almost  every  direction  abounds,  but  little  difficulty  is  experienced  in 
finding  a  practicable  and  an  inexpensive  route  for  them.  The  coast 
system  of  railways  is  particularly  favored  in  this  respect,  there  being 
but  few  natural  obstacles  of  any  magnitude  to  overcome,  for  the 
whole  way  between  Boston  and  New  Orleans.  Indeed,  from  Phila- 
delphia to  Wilmington,  a  distance  of  about  500  miles,  it  is  seldom 
that  the  line  is  found  much  above  or  below  the  surface.  There  is 
some  heavy  cutting  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Susquehannah,  as 
there  is  also,  but  rarely,  between  Richmond  and  Wilmington.  Nor 
should  I  forget  to  mention  a  short  but  heavy  cutting  through  rock,  a 
little  beyond  Jersey  city,  on  the  way  from  New  York  to  Philadel- 
phia. These,  with  the  great  rivers,  some  of  which  are  ferried,  and 
others  spanned  by  stupendous  bridges,  and  the  marshes  in  Georgia 
and  South  Carolina,  which  are  crossed  in  some  places  by  embank- 
ments, and  in  others  by  expensive  but  ricke"tty  looking  wooden 
viaducts,  constituted  the  chief  natural  obstacles  in  the  way  ;  but 
considering  its  ramifications,  and  the  length  of  route  embraced  by  the 
system,  they  are  but  few  and  far  between.  Some  of  the  greatest  im- 
pediments of  this  kind  were  encountered  in  the  construction  of  what 
now  constitutes  the  outlet,  through  New  England,  of  the,  system  in 
the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence;  the  western  railway,  extending  from 
Boston  to  Albany,  having  been  carried  through  the  mountainous  dis- 
trict intervening  between  Springfield  and  Pittsfield.  In  penetrating 
this  highland  district,  the  line  follows  the  course  of  the  Pontousac, 
a  lively  mountain  stream,  which  it  crosses  upwards  of  twenty  times. 
There  is  also  a  good  deal  of  cutting  and  embankment  in  western 
New  York,  the  surface  of  which  is  generally  undulating  and  pic- 
turesque ;  whilst,  in  the  neighbourhood  of"  Little  Falls,"  on  the  Mo- 
hawk, there  is  likewise  some  rock  cutting  on  a  heavy  scale.  Taking 
them  as  a  whole,  the  Pennsylvania  railways  have  had  to  encounter 
the  greatest  natural  obstacles  to  their  construction.  There  are  heavy 
tunnels  not  far  from  Philadelphia,  whilst,  in  the  more  westerly  por- 
tions of  the  State,  the  road  is  carried  over  the  mountains  by  inclined 
planes  constructed  on  a  stupendous  scale.  The  Baltimore  and  Ohio 
railway,  which  crosses,  about  nine  miles  from  Baltimore,  the  line 
leading  from  that  city  to  Washington,  just  as  the  latter  is  about  to 
enter  upon  a  stone  viaduct,  which  carries  it  over  the  Patapsco,  and 
is  decidedly  the  finest  thing  of  the  kind  in  the  Union,  has  little  diffi- 
culty to  encounter  in  ascending  the  river  just  named,  which  it  crosses 
several  times,  the  greatest  cutting  required  for  it  being  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Harper's  Ferry,  where  it  penetrates  the  portion  of  the 
Alleghanies  known  as  the  Blue  Ridge.  Such  being  the  case  with  the 
railways  east  of  the  mountains,  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi  is  already, 


52  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

as  it  were,  levelled  by  the  hand  of  nature  herself  for  the  railway 
system  which  will  yet  develope  itself  there.  I  may  mention  here,  in 
illustration  of  the  facilities  which,  in  this  respect,  America  affords  for 
the  construction  of  great  public  works  like  those  now  considered, 
that,  in  the  line  of  the  Erie  Canal,  uniting  the  Hudson  with  Lake 
Erie,  there  are  two  levels,  each  upwards  of  seventy  miles  long,  with- 
out a  single  lock. 

In  estimating  the  facilities  which  exist  for  the  construction  of 
railways  in  America,  the  comparative  cheapness  of  land  is  an  ele- 
ment not  to  be  overlooked.  In  the  Old  World  the  purchase  of  the 
land  required  constitutes  one  of  the  heaviest  items  of  expenditure, 
whilst  the  litigiousness  of  proprietors  has,  in  numerous  instances, 
added  enormously  to  its  amount.  Taking  into  consideration  the 
aggregate  length  of  American  railways,  the  proportion  running 
through  forests  as  yet  unreduced,  or  -passing  over  irreclaimable 
wastes,  is  very  great.  With  us,  in  the  construction  of  a  line,  timber 
figures  as  an  item  of  expense  by  no  means  insignificant.  Frequently 
for  miles  the  timber  which  is  employed  in  constructing  one  in 
America,  is  that  which  is  cleared  away  to  make  room  for  it  in  the 
forest.  Indeed,  in  the  construction  of  any  line  it  is  seldom  that  the 
Americans  have  to  look  far,  or  to  pay  much  for  timber.  Its  abund- 
ance and  cheapness  frequently  lead  to  a  solidity  in  the  formation  of 
the  line  which  it  would  not  otherwise  possess  ;  for  on  many  of  the 
American  railways,  the  transverse  are  underlaid  by  longitudinal 
sleepers.  In  their  construction,  too,  there  is  a  great  saving  in  con- 
nexion with  iron,  only  some  of  them  having  solid  iron  rails,  such  as 
are  to  be  found  universally  in  Europe.  The  rest  have  the  rail  con- 
structed of  wood,  the  inner  edge  of  which  is  shod  by  an  iron 
"  ribbon,"  as  it  is  called,  about  three  inches  wide  and  from  half  to 
three-quarters  of  an  inch  thick.  This  is  laid  down  in  bars  about 
twelve  feet  long  upon  the  wood,  to  which  it  is  securely  nailed  by 
large  iron  spikes  at  the  distance  of  about  every  two  feet.  Sometimes 
these  spikes  get  loose,  and  if  they  do  so  near  the  end  of  a  bar,  it  is 
not  unfrequently  found  elevated  a  little  above  the  level  of  the  line, 
when  it  is  designated  a  "  snake's  head."  Instances  have  been  known 
in  which  these  snakes'  heads  have  stuck  up  so  high,  that  slipping  up 
on  the  wheel  they  have  perforated  the  flooring  of  a  carriage,  and  in 
a  twinkling  impaled  a  passenger  against  the  roof. 

Nor  should  it  be  forgotten  that  most  of  the  American  railways 
are  as  yet  composed  of  but  single  lines.  The  cuttings  and  embank- 
ments, however,  have  in  most  instances  been  prepared  with  a  view 
to  double  lines  at  some  future  period. 

These  things  considered,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  there 
should  be  a  great  disparity  between  the  cost  of  American  and  that 
of  European,  particularly  English  railways.  Notwithstanding  this, 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  53 

one  is  hardly  prepared  for  the  difference  which  really  exists.  Whilst 
the  average  cost  per  mile  in  England  has  been  about  30,000/.,  that 
in  America  has  scarcely  reached  5,090Z. 

There  can  be  no  more  convincing  proof  of  the  success  of  rail- 
ways than  that  afforded  by  their  dividends.  Tried  by  this  test,  it 
cannot  be  said  that  American  railways  have  not  answered  the  ends 
of  their  promoters,  at  least  if  the  Results  of  railway  speculation  in 
Massachussetts  can  be  taken  as  a  fair  specimen  of  their  results 
throughout  the  Union.  The  dividends  of  the  Massachussetts  rail- 
ways in  1346  varied  from  10  to  5  per  cent.,  most  of  them  being  8, 
and  few  lower  than  7.  The  average  dividend  was  7J  per  cent. 
This  is  no  bad  return  for  a  secure  investment,  even  in  a  country 
where  6,  7,  and  8  per  cent,  are  to  be  found  as  the  legal  rates  of  in- 
terest. Whether  in  making  these  dividends  the  directors  of  railways 
in  New  England  have,  or  have  not,  abstracted  from  their  capital,  is 
more  than  I  can  say;  but  when  the  above  average  dividend  was  de- 
clared in  Massachussetts,  no  suspicion  that  they  did  so  appeared  to 
disturb  the  equanimity  of  the  shareholders.  As  a  set-off  to  this 
however,  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  American  railways  are  by  no 
means  so  durable  as  English  lines.  They  will,  consequently,  have 
not  only  to  be  more  frequently  repaired,  but  also  more  frequently 
entirely  removed  than  with  us.  It  were  needless  to  dwell  upon  the 
effect  which  this  consideration  must  of  necessity  have  upon  them  as 
permanent  investments. 

If  their  durability  as  compared  with  that  of  English  railways  were 
to  depend  upon  their  completeness  and  strength  of  construction  as 
compared  with  those  of  English  railways,  they  would  not  seem  to  be 
much  superior  in  point  of  profit  to  most  English  lines  at  the  present 
day.  But  the  durability  of  a  railway  depends  much  upon  the  wear 
and  tear  to  which  it  is  subjected;  and  if  American  are  more  flimsy 
in  their  construction  than  English  lines,  they  are  not  so  perpetually 
worked  as  English  lines  are.  Between  the  most  populous  and  im- 
portant communities  it  is  seldom  that  more  than  two  trains  a-day 
either  way  are  run.  The  combined  populations  of  New  York  and 
Philadelphia  would  exceed  690,000,  and  yet  two  trains  a-day,  from 
and  to  either  city,  are  found  to  be  quite  sufficient  in  a  country  where 
personal  locomotion  is  carried  to  such  an  extent  as  it  is  in  America. 
But  these  two  trains  carry  with  them  their  hundreds  of  passengers; 
as  many  being  conveyed  by  them,  perhaps,  as  by  eight  or  ten  trains 
in  the  course  of  a  day  between  London  and  Birmingham.  By  this 
means  the  line  escapes  a  great  deal  of  wear  and  tear,  much  in  the 
way  of  expense  is  saved  in  a  hundred  different  ways  to  a  company, 
and  all  the  reasonable  wants  of  the  communities  at  either  end  of  the 
line  are  complied  with. 

With  very  few  exceptions  the  American  railways,  as  with  us,  are 
all  in  the  hands  of  private  companies.  Their  management,  on  the 

5* 


54  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

whole,  is  exceedingly  good,  the  chief  defect  being  in  the  want  of  a 
sufficient  police  superintendence  along  the  lines.  Were  this  defect 
supplied,  fewer  obstructions  would  be  encountered  by  the  trains  than 
now,  chiefly  from  the  trespassing  of  cattle  upon  them.  But  this  is 
a  feature  in  railway  management  which  is  in  some  cases  rendered 
almost  impossible  in  America,  on  account  both  of  the  length  of  the 
lines  and  the  wildness  of  the  districts  which  they  traverse.  They 
will  necessarily  be  more  guarded  as  the  country  becomes  more 
opened  up,  as  population  becomes  more  dense,  and  as  the  traffic 
upon  them  increases. 

The  peculiar  construction  of  the  railway  carriages,  or  "  cars,"  as 
they  are  invariably  called  in  the  United  States,  has  been  already  ad- 
verted to  in  an  early  chapter.  A  carriage  built  to  carry  sixty  pas- 
sengers generally  rests  upon  two  axletrees,  each  of  which  divides  at 
the  extremities  into  two,  so  that  the  carriage  is  in  reality  borne  upon 
eight  wheels.  Four  of  these  are  in  front,  the  two  on  each  side  being 
close  together,  and  four  behind  similarly  arranged.  This  leaves  a 
long  space  between  the  two  sets  of  wheels,  which,  although  eight  in 
number,  rest  the  carriage  but  upon  two  points,  as  if  there  were  only 
four.  The  double  wheels  terminating  each  axletree,  the  one  wheel 
following  close  upon  the  other,  seem  to  impart  great  safety  to  the 
train  in  motion  ;  for  if  one  wheel  were  inclined  from  any  cause  to 
deviate  from  the  rail,  the  hold  which  the  other  immediately  behind 
it  has  of  the  line  tends  to  keep  it  in  its  place,  unless  the  disturbing 
cause  be  sufficiently  great  to  throw  the  carriage  at  once  from  the  rail. 
The  one  wheel  thus  acts  as  a  corrective  upon  the  other,  to  an  extent 
to  which  it  could  not  act  were  it  much  further  removed  from  it.  In 
whatever  way  they  operate,  there  must  be  something  conducive  to 
safety  in  the  mode  in  which  the  wheels  forming  each  of  the  two 
sets  on  which  the  carriage  rests  are  closely  grouped  together ;  for 
not  only  has  the  carriage  a  clumsy,  an  unwieldy  and  unsteady  look 
to  the  eye,  but  it  has  very  often  to  encounter,  at  a  pretty  high  rate  of 
speed,  curves  which  in  this  country  would  be  considered  dangerous, 
and  which  would  in  tjieir  abruptness  be  positively  contrary  to  law. 
I  have  seen  one  of  these  carriages  drawn  by  horse  power  out  of 
Philadelphia,  whipped  at  a  trot,  with  its  full  complement  of  passen- 
gers, along  the  rectangular  streets  of  the  town,  there  being  no  appa- 
rent diminution  of  speed  on  turning  the  corners.  But  it  is  on  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  railway  that  their  safety  is  put  to  the  severest 
test,  for  in  ascending,  or  descending,  the  valleys  of  the  Patapsco  and 
the  Potomac,  the  trains  are  dragged  at  full  speed  along  curves  which 
in  this  country  would  be  considered  impracticable.  It  really  requires 
one  to  be  somewhat  accustomed  to  these  abrupt  turnings,  ere  he  can 
pass  them  with  coo!  nerves  or  an  easy  mind.  I  have  often  wondered 
at  the  indifference  with  which  the  Americans  themselves  passed  one 
of  these  cranky  curves,  when  the  carriages  would  be  swinging  to 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  55 

and  fro  at  a  rate  which  threatened  to  jerk  all  the  heads  which  they 
carried  from  their  respective  shoulders.  They  are  enabled  to  make 
these  sudden  turns  with  safety,  by  the  wheels  in  front  being  made 
movable  like  the  fore-wheels  of  a  common  carriage.  When  this 
line  was  first  put  in  operation,  some  of  the  carriages  were  so  con- 
structed that  at  night  they  could  be  fitted  up  with  small  berths  at  the 
sides,  after  the  fashion  of  a  canal  boat,  on  which  passengers  by  the 
night  trains  might  repose  till  morning. 

In  regard  to  luggage  an  excellent  system  prevails  in  America, 
which  might  be  adopted  with  much  advantage  in  this  country. 
Every  one  who  has  attended  a  large  private  party,  or  a  public  dinner, 
or  resorted  to  any  public  place  of  amusement  in  this  country,  knows 
the  mode  in  which  his  hat,  coat,  and  umbrella  are  taken  charge  of, 
and  in  which  he  is  enabled  to  secure  them  without  difficulty  when 
wanted  again.  The  same  system  of  management  is  applied  to  lug- 
gage on  American  railways.  To  each  parcel  is  strapped  a  brass 
ticket,  having  a  certain  number  impressed  upon  it,  the  counterpart 
of  which,  with  the  same  number  on  it,  is  delivered  to  the  owner. 
Sometimes  several  small  parcels  are  strapped  together,  so  that  a 
single  ticket  serves  for  them.  Each  ticket  held  by  a  passenger  is  a 
receipt  for  a  parcel  of  luggage,  consisting  of  one  or  more  articles  as 
the  case  may  be.  At  the  end  of  the  journey  the  number  attached  to 
each  parcel  is  called  out  as  it  is  taken  out  of  the  van,  and  it  is  de- 
livered to  him,  and  to  him  alone,  who  can  produce  the  counterpart 
of  the  ticket  attached  to  it.  This  system  answers  admirably,  the 
little  loss  of  time  that  it  may  occasion  being  more  than  compensated 
for  by  the  safety  with  which  luggage  is  conveyed  from  point  to  point 
through  its  means. 

There  are  no  distinctions  of  class  on  American  railways,  all  the 
carriages  being  first-cla?s,  or  second-class  carriages,  just  as  the  tra- 
veller may  please  to  view  them.  To  have  different  classes  travelling 
on  the  road  would  appear  in  this  country  an  invidious  distinction  ; 
and  yet  it  is  singular  that  they  never  carry  that  feeling  into  the 
regulation  of  their  steamers,  most  of  which  have  deck,  as  well  as 
cabin  passengers.  To  say  that  all  shall  travel  alike  upon  a  railway, 
or  on  board  a  steamer,  is  but  to  prevent  one  man  from  spending 
more  money  on  his  comfort  than  another,  if  he  chooses  and  can 
afford  to  do  so,  and  to  prevent  another  from  economizing  his  means, 
however  strongly  he  may  be  inclined  to  do  so.  It  would  be  as  rea- 
sonable to  insist  upon  hotels  being  all  of  the  same  grade,  and  equally 
expensive,  or  equally  cheap.  And  yet,  mark  the  difference  between 
the  Astor  House  and  a  third  or  fourth-rate  hotel  in  New  York;  a 
difference  of  which  no  sane  man  would  think  of  complaining.  If 
they  differ  in  price,  so  do  they  also  differ  in  comfort;  enabling  the 
traveller  to  gauge  his  comfort  by  his  means.  Why  proscribe  this 
principle  upon  a  railway?  Why  compel  the  man  whose  notions  of 


56  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

comfort  would  be  satisfied  with  the  accommodation  which  the 
company  could  afford  him  for  three  dollars  between  New  York  and 
Philadelphia,  for  instance,  to  pay  four;  or  the  man  who  has  five 
to  give  the  company,  and  'is  willing  to  give  it,  for  extra  comforts,  to 
limit  his  expenditure  to  four?  The  Americans  view  our  class  system 
7in  a  false  light.  It  may  have  had  its  abuse  on  railways  in  this  coun- 
try; but  it  rests  upon  no  more  invidious  principle  than  that  which 
distinguishes  between  the  inside  and  the  outside  of  a  coach,  the 
cabin  and  the  steerage  of  a  steamer,  and  the  first-rate  and  the  inferior 
hotel,  or  even  between  different  rooms  in  one  and  the  same  hotel. 
So  long  as  all  are  rendered,  at  least,  comfortable,  there  is  nothing 
invidious  in  enabling  a  traveller  to  regulate  his  expenditure  in  travel- 
ling, as  well  as  in  other  instances,  by  his  means. 

The  rate  of  travelling  on  American  railways  is  much  less  than  in 
this  country.  The  journey  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia  usually 
consumes  five  hours,  although  the  distance  is  only  ninety  miles. 
The  average  speed  is  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  miles.  Fares  are  also 
considerably  lower  than  with  us,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  railway 
travelling  is,  on  the  whole,  cheaper.  For  short  distances  it  undoubt- 
edly is ;  but  when  long  journeys  are  made,  a  comparatively  long 
time  is  consumed  in  making  them,  giving  opportunities  for,  and  in- 
deed necessitating,  some  expenditure  by  the  way.  The  traveller  by 
first-class  in  England  pays  more  for  his  transfer  from  London  to 
Liverpool  than  the  traveller  in  America  does  for  being  conveyed  for 
a  similar  distance;  but  then  the  former,  accomplishing  the  distance 
in  from  five  to  six  liours,  has  simply  his  fare  to  pay ;  whereas  the 
latter,  taking  about  twelve  hours  to  accomplish  it,  has  generally  to 
procure  two  meals  on  the  way  at  least.  On  the  whole,  1  found  but 
little  difference  between  the  expense,  in  actual  cash  outlay,  of  rail- 
way travelling  in  the  one  country  and  that  in  the  other;  to  say 
nothing  of  the  saving  of  time  caused  by  the  superior  speed  at  which 
English  railways  are  traversed.  There  is  but  little  difference,  in 
point  of  amount,  between  our  second-class  fares  and  American  fares, 
whilst  our  third-class  passengers  travel  much  more  cheaply  than 
passengers  do  on  any  of  the  transatlantic  railways. 

In  describing  the  incidents  of  a  journey  from  New  York  to  Phi- 
ladelphia, 1  have  already  noticed  the  chief  peculiarities  which  attend 
railway  management  and  railway  travelling  during  the  winter  months 
in  America. 

It  may  not  be  an  inappropriate  supplement  to  what  has  been  here 
said  upon  railways,  if  I  add  a  few  words  descriptive  of  the  progress 
made  by  the  Electric  Telegraph  in  America. 

If  the  circumstances  of  the  United  States  rendered  the  introduction 
of  railways  a  matter  of  peculiar  advantage  to  them,  they  were  so 
situated  as  to  render  preeminently  serviceable  to  them  the  application 
of  the  electric  telegraph  to  the  annihilation  of  time  and  space.  In 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  57 

this  country,  limited  as  it  is  in  its  extent,  and  with  the  means  of 
communication  so  complete,  even  independently  of  railways,  cor- 
respondence between  point  and  point  has  long  been  accomplisbec] 
with  comparative  rapidity.  Our  railway  system,  which  preceded  the 
telegraph,  of  course  rendered  the  means  of  correspondence  all  the 
more  rapid  and  complete.  Whilst,  therefore,  the  limited  surface  of 
this  country  failed  to  afford  the  telegraph  those  opportunities  for  a 
full  display  of  its  wonderful  powers  which  it  possesses  when  ex- 
tended over  a  vast  area,  the  effects  which  it  produced  at  its  introduction, 
although  startling,  were  not  so  marvellous  to  us  as  to  our  American 
friends;  simply  because  they  were  not  in  such  contrast  here  as  they 
were  there  to  the  results  of  the  preexisting  means  of  intercommu- 
nication. Railways  must  of  course  have  greatly  expedited  correspond- 
ence in  America;  but  still  so  much  remained  to  be  done  towards 
their  completion  as  a  system  when  the  telegraph  was  introduced,  that 
its  effects  were  judged  of  more  by  comparison  with  the  old  system 
than  with  that  by  which  railways  were  superseding  it.  Thus  estimated 
they  seemed  like  magic,  and  quite  as  marvellous  as  Fortunatus'  cap 
or  Aladdin's  lamp.  There  were  many  points  of  the  Union  so  distant 
from,  and  inaccessible  to  others,  notwithstanding  all  that  the  rail- 
ways had  done,  that  they  could  sooner  have  communicated  with 
Europe  than  with  one  another.  To  bring  these  into  close  and  instant 
communication  with  each  other  by  means  of  an  agent  which  recog- 
nised no  obstacle  in  the  mountain  or  the  plain,  the  river,  the  morass, 
or  the  forest,  was  a  triumph  to  the  powers  and  capabilities  of  this  won- 
derful invention  which  could  only  await  them  in  a  country  situated 
like  the  United  States.  This  triumph  has  been  accorded  to  the  elec- 
tric telegraph  in  America,  embracing  as  it  now  does  there,  in  its  nu- 
merous ramifications,  nearly  half  a  continent. 

To  whomsoever  may  belong  the  merit  of  its  original  application, 
certain  it  is  that  the  electric  telegraph,  as  it  is  devloped  in  America, 
is  greatly  indebted,  both  for  its  introduction  and  its  success,  to  the 
enterprise  and  perseverance  of  Professor  Morse.  Whilst  some  of  the 
more  scientific  minds  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  were  doubting 
as  to  the  applicability  or  practical  utility  of  the  invention,  he  never 
ceased  from  pressing  the  subject  upon  the  attention  of  Congress; 
until  at  length,  and  when  only  half  convinced  by  his  earnestness  and 
demonstrations,  the  federal  legislature  consented  to  make  the  ex- 
periment and  with  that  view  appropriated  a  sum  of  money  for  the 
construction  of  a  telegraph  forty  miles  in  length,  between  Washing- 
ton and  Baltimore.  This  may  be  considered  as  the  parent  telegraph 
of  the  transatlantic  world,  from  which  a  system  has  since  sprung, 
which,  from  its  extent  and  achievements,  is  well  calculated  to  fill 
both  native  and  foreigner  with  astonishment. 

The  number  of  miles  of  telegraph  already  constructed  exceeds 
5,000.  The  telegraph  is  frequently  though  not  always  seen  in  the 


58  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

same  line  with  the  railway;  sometimes  pursuing  a  shorter  road  from 
point  to  point,  through  a  wild,  broken  and  uncultivated  country,  which 
would  be  impracticable  to  the  railway;  and  at  others  connecting 
places  together  beween  which  there  is  as  yet  no  line  of  railway  what- 
ever. A  continuous  line  of  telegraph  already  extends  along  the  At- 
lantic coast,  from  Portland  in  Maine  to  Richmond  in  Virginia,  a  dis- 
tance of  760  miles  ;  taking  in  Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Bal- 
timore and  Washington  in  its  way.  This  enormous  line  is  now  in 
progress  of  completion  to  New  Orleans,  a  distance  of  1,400  miles; 
so  that  the  whole  line  when  completed  from  Portland  to  New  Or- 
leans will  be  upwards  of  2,100  miles  in  length.  Another  line,  which 
will  be  upwards  of  800  miles  in  length,  is  in  process  of  construction 
in  the  Mississippi  Valley,  from  New  Orleans  to  Louisville  in  Ken- 
tucky, which  will  also  be  united  by  the  same  means  with  Cincinnati 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Ohio;  from  which  point  the  line  will  extend 
again  westward  to  St.  Louis  on  the  Mississippi,  a  little  below  its 
junction  with  the  Missouri.  From  St.  Louis  another  line  is  being 
constructed  to  Chicago  on  Lake  Michigan,  a  distance  of  400  miles; 
which  again  will  be  united  to  Buffalo,  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie,  by 
another  series  of  lines,  amounting  in  all  to  800  miles  and  upwards 
in  length.  A  line  already  extends  from  Buffalo  to  Albany  ;  passing 
through  Rochester,  Auburn,  Syracuse,  Utica  and  Schenectady,  on 
the  way  ;  as  does  also  one  from  Albany  to  Boston  ;  the  distance  from 
Buffalo  to  Boston  exceeding  500  miles.  This  makes  an  unbroken 
circuit  of  the  existing,  States  Union ;  the  aggregate  length  of  line 
being  upwards  of  4,000  miles. 

Within  this,  as  a  mere  framework  to  the  picture,  other  results,  al- 
most equally  astonishing,  are  being  produced.  From  Philadelphia  a 
line  extends  to  Harrisburg,  the  capital  of  Pennsylvania,  from  which 
point  it  proceeds  by  Pittsburg,  in  the  western  part  of  the  State,  to 
Columbus,  the  capital  of  Ohio;  from  which  it  slill  further  proceeds 
to  Cincinnati,  where  it  joins  the  great  line  in  the  Mississippi  Valley, 
extending  between  New  Orleans  and  Chicago.  The  entire  length 
of  this  line  is  about  630  miles.  From  Cincinnati,  again,  another  line 
is  to  proceed  to  Sandusky,  on  Lake  Erie,  a  distance  of  about  230 
miles,  where  it  will  connect  with  the  great  east  and  west  line  ex- 
tending from  Chicago  to  Boston.  New  York  and  Albany  are  of 
course  thus  connected  ;  and  a  line,  upwards  of  500  miles  in  length, 
is  designed  to  proceed  along  the  course  of  the  New  York  and  Erie 
railway;  which,  as  already  observed,  unites  that  city  with  Lake 
Erie,  at  Dunkirk,  a  little  above  Buffalo.  There  are  numberless 
minor  lines  completed,  or  in  progress,  to  which  it  is  not  necessary 
here  to  advert,  more  than  enough  having  already  been  said  to  show 
the  extent  to  which  this  wonderful  invention  either  has  been,  or  is 
about  to  be,  applied  to  the  purposes  of  sQcial  life  in  America.  Nor 
is  the  sketch  thus  given,  either  in  whole  or  in  part,  a  hypothetical 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  59 

one.  The  whole  of  the  lines  mentioned  are  either  completed  or  in 
progress;  and,  with  few  exceptions,  all  of  them  will  probably  be  in 
operation  ere  this  issues  from  the  press.  There  are  a  few  lines  ex- 
traneous to  the  Union,  but  deserving  of  notice  here,  as  they  are  all 
part  and  parcel  of  the  same  system.  One  of  these  extends  into 
Canada  from  Buffalo,  proceeding  to  Toronto,  whence  it  goes  for- 
ward to  Montreal.  Another  line  runs  from  Albany  northward,  along 
the  line  of  Lake  Champlain,  and  through  Burlington,  the  capital  of 
Vermont,  to  Montreal ;  thus  completing  a  direct  telegraphic  com- 
munication between  the  capital  of  Canada  and  New  York,  the  great 
emporium  of  the|continent.  From  Montreal  a  line  will  shortly  be 
constructed  to  Quebec;  which,  again,  it  is  in  contemplation  similarly 
to  unite  with  Halifax;  between  which  place  and  Portland  (Maine) 
another  line  is  in  process  of  erection.  This  will  complete  another 
circle,  the  greater  portion  of  whose  vast  circumference  will  be 
comprehended  within  the  limits  of  the  British  provinces. 

According  to  the  American  Almanac  for  1848,  which  is  an  au- 
thority which  may  be  relied  upon,  the  number  of  miles  of  telegraph 
in  operation  in  1847  was  2,311 ;  the  number  of  miles  nearly  com- 
pleted, 2,586;  whilst  the  number  projected,  and  which  would  pro- 
bably be  in  operation  by  the  close  of  1848,  is  3,815  ;  making  a  total 
of  8,712  miles !  The  electric  has  succeeded  to  the  iron  age. 

The  effect  which  this  invention,  as  thus  developed,  has  produced, 
and  that  which  it  is  still  likely  to  produce  on  many  of  the  operations 
of  society,  are  almost  past  comprehension,  As  an  instance  of  the 
change  already  effected,  let  me  adduce  one  fact.  On  landing  in 
Boston  late  in  January,  1846,  I  hastened,  with  all  speed,  to  Wash- 
ington. Travelling  with  the  mail,  I  did  not  arrive  at  the  capital  un- 
til the  third  day  after  landing.  In  other  words,  the  greater  part  of 
three  days  was  consumed  in  conveying  the  European  intelligence 
from  Boston  to  the  capital.  It  was  a  time  of  feverish  excitement, 
the  Oregon  dispute  being  then  at  its  height,  and  the  news  just 
arrived  being  the  first  from  Europe  after  the  promulgation  of  the 
President's  warlike  message.  All  parties  were,  therefore,  anxious 
to  know,  with  as  little  delay  as  possible,  the  effect  which  it  had 
produced;  but,  notwithstanding  their  anxiety,  the  government  and 
legislature  had  to  wait  for  nearly  three  days  after  the  arrival  of  the 
steamer  before  they  were  relieved  from  it.  1  left  Washington  about 
five  months  afterwards,  and  great  indeed  was  the  change  which,  in 
the  meantime,  had  taken  place.  The  telegraph  had  been  completed 
to  Boston,  and  the  result  was,  that  the  chief  features  of  the  European 
news  were  sometimes  known  in  Washington  before  the  steamer  was 
even  in  port,  at  Boston  !  On  Cape  Ann,  to  the  north-east  of  Boston, 
there  is  a  telegraphic  station.  When  in  sight  of  this,  the  steamer,  by 
ordinary  signals,  conveyed  the  heads  of  her  news  to  Cape  Ann. 
From  this  point  it  was  transmitted  to  Boston,  whence,  by  one  pulsa- 


60  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

tion,  extending  over  500  miles  of  wire,  it  was  forwarded  without  de- 
lay to  Washington,  where  it  was  received  and  circulated  ere  the 
steamer  was  in  the  harbour!  Being  one  day  loitering  in  the  Tele- 
graphic Office  at  Washington,  I  asked  one  of  the  clerks,  from  mere 
curiosity,  to  inquire  what  the  weather  was  at  Boston.  He  did  so,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  answer  received  was, "  Very  hot,  but  a  thunder- 
storm in  the  north-west."  In  these  few  minutes  the  question  and 
reply  had  together  travelled  upwards  of  1,000  miles! 

These  are  but  mere  specimens  of  what  has  already  been  done,  and 
shadows  forecast  of  what  is  yet  in  the  future.  Already,  and  before 
the  system  is  complete,  it  enabled  most  of  the  important  points  of 
the  Union  to  be  in  possession  of  the  result  of  the  late  presidential 
contest  a  few  days  after  the  election.  Formerly  it  took  as  many 
weeks  to  learn  it.  The  time  will  come,  too,  and  that  ere  many 
years  are  sped,  when  the  sensitive  wires  will  extend  in  all  directions, 
acting,  in  regard  to  the  body  politic,  like  the  nerves  in  the  human 
system  ;  when  the  frame-work  of  nature  will,  as  it  were,  become  sen- 
tient, so  that  no  important  intelligence  can  transpire  at  any  one  point  of 
the  country,  without  its  being  simultaneously  transferred  through  all 
its  parts  ;  and  when  the  news  from  the  Old  World  will  have  scarcely 
landed  on  the  coast,  ere  it  is  known  from  Maine  to  Louisiana,  from 
New  York  to  Wisconsin ;  ere  it  is  promulgated  and  commented 
upon  in  all  the  Atlantic  States,  and  through  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi !  And,  more  than  this,  the  time  will 
yet  come  when  the  news  from  Europe  will  pass,  almost  in  a  twink- 
ling, from  New  York  to  San  Francisco;  and  that  from  Asia,  from 
San  Francisco  to  New  York.  The  two  extremities  of  the  Old 
World  will  thus,  one  day,  hold  converse  with  each  other  by  means 
of  the  American  wires!  What  would  our  forefathers  have  said  to 
this? 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  61 


CHAPTER  III. 

FROM    MACON    TO    MOBILE    AND    NEW    ORLEANS. 

Macon. — The  Stage  again. — My  Fellow-passengers. — The  Judge. — An  Upset. — 
Columbus. — Cross  into  Alabama. — Route  from  the  Frontier  to  Montgomery. — 
The  Town  of  Montgomery. — Sail  down  the  Alabama — Scenery  on  its  Banks. 
— High-pressure  Steamer — Accommodations. — Gamblers  on  Board. — An 
Irish  Fellow-traveller. — A  Conversation. — Juleps  and  Strawberries. — Emigra- 
tion.— An  Apparition. — Lonely  Scene. — The  Banks  lower  down. — Fort  Clai- 
borne. — Change  in  the  Conformation  of  the  Country. — Seacoast  Region  on 
the  Gulf. — Change  in  the  Vegetation. — Monotony  of  the  Scenery. — Fer- 
tility of  Alabama. — Health  and  Climate  of  the  Sea- Coast  Region. — The 
Mobile. — City  of  Mobile. — Its  Plan  and  Appearance. — Its  Commercial  Im- 
portance.— Exports  and  Imports — Its  Means  of  Connexion  with  the  Interior. 
Route  by  Sea  to  New  Orleans.— Ports  of  Mobile.— The  Bay.— The  Shores 
of  Alabama  and  Mississippi. — Lake  Ponchartrain. — Morass. — 'Arrival  at  New 
Orleans. 

I  WAS  still  engaged  conversing  and  reflecting  upon  the  topics  which 
form  the  subject-matter  of  the  foregoing  chapter ;  when,  at  length, 
after  a  protracted  and  wearisome  journey,  we  arrived  at  Macon.  For 
the  last  half  of  the  way  the  road  seemed  to  lead  through  a  clayey 
tract,  well  wooded,  but  not  over  fertile ;  the  clay,  which  was  of  a 
reddish  hue,  being  so  heavy  and  tenacious  as  sometimes  to  threaten 
to  hold  fast  the  lumbering  vehicle,  as  the  unwary  bird  is  secured  by 
the  birdlime. 

Macon  is  a  pleasant  little  town,  occupying  an  advantageous  posi- 
tion at  the  head  of  the  navigation  of  the  Ocmulgee  river,  a  tributary 
of  the  Alatamaha,  which  is  the  most  southerly  of  the  rivers  flowing 
through  the  body  of  the  continent,  which  empty  themselves  into  the 
Atlantic.  Near  its  mouth  is  the  port  of  Darien,  which  largely  shares 
with  Savannah  the  export  trade  of  Georgia.  The  plan  of  Macon  is 
the  counterpart  of  that  of  most  of  the  southern  towns,  being  open, 
airy,  and  scrupulously  regular ;  and  the  streets  being  wide  and 
shaded,  as  usual,  with  an  abundance  of  trees.  Its  population  cannot 
much  exceed  5,000;  but  it  is  entirely  the  growth  of  the  last  twenty 
years.  But  this  is  by  no  means  equal  to  the  specimens  which  the 
North  affords  of  the  rapidity  with  which  even  large  communities  are 
conjured  into  existence,  it  being  no  uncommon  sight  in  that  section 
of  the  Union  to  find  a  spot  which,  twenty  years  previously,  was 
covered  by  the  forest,  the  site  of  a  thriving  and  wealthy  town  of 
20,000  souls. 
VOL.  TI.—6 


62  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

As  Mr. was  to  stay  for  a  few  days  at  Macon,  I  parted  with 

him  next  morning  on  leaving  for  Columbus.  The  seat  which  he  had 
occupied  on  the  preceding  night  was  now  in  possession  of  three 
travellers  who  joined  us  here,  the  rest  of  the  passengers  being  the 
same,  and  similarly  situated  as  on  the  day  before.  On  my  extreme 
left  sat,  as  formerly,  the  commissioner,  with  the  judge  between  us. 
The  temper  of  this  latter  functionary  was  by  no  means  improved  by 
a  night's  rest,  for  he  seemed  to  have  a  lively  recollection  of  the  per- 
secution with  which  he  had  been  visited  overnight  by  the  musquitos, 
whose  number  was  legion,  and  whose  size  was  "  onaccountable." 
They  appeared  to  him  to  have  met  for  the  purpose  of  making  a 
night  of  it  at  his  expense ;  and  he  described  them  as  setting  at  him 
with  knife  and  fork,  and  as  having  eaten  his  beef  and  drank  his 
claret  to  their  hearts'  content.  He  was  convinced  that  he  must  have 
been  "  sweet  eatin',"  for  he  "  didn't  get  no  sleep." 

As  we  receded  from  Macon,  the  surface  of  the  country  began  to 
improve  a  little,  but  not  the  condition  of  the  roads.  An  additional 
quantity  of  rain  had  fallen  during  the  night,  with  which  the  heavy 
clay  was  so  churned  up,  that  sometimes  it  was  a  marvel  to  see  how 
we  made  any  progress  at  all.  On,  however,  we  went  at  a  painfully 
slow  rate,  sometimes  stuck  fast  for  a  minute  or  two,  then  released 
by  the  horses,  after  they  had  been  accorded  a  little  breathing  time  ; 
sometimes  kept  dancing  between  seat  and  roof,  and  at  others  reeling 
for  minutes  at  a  time  from  side  to  side.  One  of  the  frightful  jolts 
which  we  every  now  and  then  experienced,  caused  me  to  receive  a 
severe  blow  in  the  cheek  from  the  side  of  the  coach,  which  left  its 
ugly  mark  upon  me  for  some  days  afterwards.  We  were  so  often 
threatened  with  an  upset,  that  I  at  last  came  almost  to  wish  for  one, 
that  on  this  score  at  least,  we  might  be  relieved  from  our  anxiety. 
It  was  not  long  ere  I  was  gratified.  Giving  a  tremendous  lurch  to 
the  side  at  which  I  was  seated,  the  coach  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
poise  itself  upon  the  two  side  wheels,  as  if  deliberating  whether  to 
lie  down  at  once  or  restore  itself  to  its  equilibrium.  I  looked  at  the 
judge,  and  shuddered  &t  the  idea  of  the  "  fourteen  stun' ;"  so,  press- 
ing towards  the  left,  I  called  upon  the  rest  to  lean  to  the  weather 
side.  This  they  did  but  too  effectually,  for,  on  the  coach  righting, 
the  opposite  wheels  plunged  into  another  hole,  or  "  rut"  with  such 
violence  as  to  carry  over  the  whole  concern.  It  went  gently  enough, 
and  I  felt  an  inward  satisfaction,  as  we  were  falling,  that  my  weight 
was  to  come  on  the  judge.  I  regretted  it  afterwards,  on  account  of 
the  rather  severe  contusions  which  together  we  occasioned  to  the 
commissioner. 

For  a  moment  after  the  vehicle  was  fairly  on  its  side  there  was 
neither  motion  nor  sound  within,  every  one  seeming  to  be  collecting 
his  thoughts,  and  assuring  himself  precisely  where  and  how  he  was. 
At  length,  the  lady  in  the  back  seat  fountl  courage  to  scream,  which 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  63 

seemed  to  bring  it  to  the  recollection  of  the  rest  that  there  was 
something  to  be  done  as  well  for  themselves  as  for  others.  There 
was  accordingly  a  general  movement  of  arms  and  legs ;  at  least,  of 
as  many  as  were  in  a  position  to  move ;  an  operation  which,  unless 
checked,  might  have  led  to  rather  serious  results,  as  heads  and  heels 
were  in  awkward  juxtaposition.  At  one  time,  the  iron  nails  in  the 
shoe  of  one  of  those  who,  but  a  little  before,  had  been  occupying  the 
front  seat,  gleamed  ominously  before  my  eyes,  causing  me  to  remove 
my  head  without  delay  as  far  as  I  could  from  the  awkward  apparition. 

"  Lie  still  all  'cept  them  as  are  at  the  top,"  said  the  judge,  in  a 
muffled  voice,  as  if  he  were  speaking  with  his  arm  in  his  mouth, 
"  and  let  the  topmost  git  out  at  oncet,  so  that  the  rest  can  foller." 

As  I  had  the  good  luck  to  be  one  of  the  upper  stratum,  I  prepared 
at  once  to  follow  this  injunction.  In  doing  so,  my  first  care  was  to 
ascertain  how  a  release  could  be  effected.  On  looking  upwards,  I 
observed  a  square  hole  directly  above  me,  which  resembled  the 
hatchway  of  a  ship  as  seen  from  the  hold;  but  which,  after  a  little 
scrutiny,  I  discovered  to  be  neither  more  nor  less  than  the  window  of 
the  coach.  In  the  first  moments  of  such  a  bouleversement  one  cannot 
at  once  collect  his  thoughts;  and  I  can  now  recall  a  variety  of 
fancies  which  passed  rapidly  through  my  brain,  before  the  window, 
at  which  I  had  been  seated,  and  which  was  now  in  the  position  of  a 
skylight,  was  recognized  by  me.  The  illusion,  whilst  it  lasted,  was 
heightened  by  my  observing  a  face  peering  down  at  us,  which  would 
have  been  valuable  in  an  artist's  studio,  as  the  model  of  the  head  of 
the  impenitent  thief.  I  thought  of  a  pirate  and  a  hold  full  of  cap- 
tives, and  might  have  called  out  for  mercy,  had  I  not  been  aroused 
to  a  true  sense  of  my  situation  by  the  husky  voice  of  the  driver,  who 
told  us,  in  an  impatient  tone,  to  "  make  ourselves  scarce  where  we 
were,  and  let  things  be  got  to  rights  agin." 

"  Well  I'm  blowed  !"  said  the  judge  ;  but  why  or  wherefore  he  was 
so  I  did  not  hear,  as  I  was  making  my  way  out  whilst  he  was  vouch- 
safing the  explanation.  On  getting  out,  I  found  myself  perched  on 
the  side  of  the  coach  which  was  uppermost,  the  vehicle  lying  flat  in 
the  mud  on  its  other  side,  like  a  ship  on  her  beam  ends,  with  her 
cargo  shifted.  The  driver,  who  was  by  this  time  perched  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  hatchway,  immediately  put  down  the  handle  of 
his  whip  amongst  those  below,  shouting  out  at  the  same  time, 
"  Come,  be  stirrin'  there,  will  you?"  The  judge  thereupon  began  to 
exhibit  some  signs  of .  life.  First  raising  his  head,  and  turning  it 
slowly  round,  he  took  the  exact  measure  of  his  position,  after  which 
he  brought  his  arms  into  play,  and  then,  one  after  the  other,  recovered 
his  legs.  Having  at  length  raised  himself  to  a  kneeling  position,  the 
driver  and  I  got  him  by  the  collar  of  the  coat,  by  means  of  which, 
with  some  aid  from  himself,  we'  managed  to  elevate  the  "  fourteen 
stun'"  into  air  and  sunshine.  The  commissioner  was  the  next 


64  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

dragged  out.  His  face,  poor  fellow,  was  somewhat  scratched,  and 
one  side  of  it  besmeared  with  dirt,  the  judge  having  pressed  it  into  a 
soft  pillow  of  mud,  which  had  squeezed  itself  in  through  the  window. 
Next  came  my  friend  with  the  nails  in  his  shoes,  who  turned  out  to 
be  a  farmer  from  the  banks  of  the  Miami  in  Ohio.  From  his  position  we 
could  only  render  him  aid  by  dragging  him  out  heels  foremost,  which 
we  did.  Then  came  the  lady,  of  whom  for  a  time  we  had  lost 
sight  altogether.  She  came  up  much  crushed  and  disordered, 
and  on  being  let  down  in  the  mud,  frantically  grasped  the  judge,  who 
was  still  engaged  in  adjusting  himself,  and  asked  if  there  was  any 
chance  whatever  of  our  getting  safely  to  our  journey's  end.  After 
pausing  for  a  time  to  consider,  he  replied,  gravely  but  kindly,  that 
there  "  was  a  chance,  but  that  it  was  not  mighty  promisin'."  He 
bade  her  calm  herself,  however,  as  she  would  get  used  to  such  inci- 
dents in  time,  as  he  had  done. 

The  rest  of  the  passengers  having  been  extricated,  the  coach,  but 
not  without  some  trouble,  was,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  got  upon 
its  legs  again.  We  had  a  long  ride  after  this  ere  we  reached  Colum- 
bus, but  it  was  fortunately  accomplished  without  the  recurrence  of 
an  upset. 

As  we  approached  Columbus,  the  surface  of  the  country  became 
much  more  broken  and  picturesque  than  I  had  seen  it  at  any  point 
since  leaving  the  coast.  The  northern  and  western  portion  of  the 
State  of  Georgia,  which  is  traversed  by  a  spur  of  the  Alleghanies,  is 
generally  of  an  undulating  character,  and  in  many  places  not  only 
hilly  but  mountainous.  In  its  rolling  surface,  in  its  rich  arid  varied 
vegetation,  amongst  which  the  magnolia,  the  jessamine,  and  the  wild 
vine,  were  conspicuous — in  its  pleasant  prospects,  its  genial  airs,  and 
its  pure  and  lively  streams,  it  is  quite  a  contrast  to  the  dreary  region 
extending  in  such  monotonous  succession  between  it  and  Charles- 
ton. 

Columbus  is  but  a  small  town,  and  is  prettily  situated  on  the  east 
bank  of  the  Chatahouohee,  a  navigable  tributary  of  the  Apalachi- 
chola,  which  empties,  itself  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  close  to  the 
peninsula  of  Florida.  Like  Macon,  though  far  inland,  it  has  thus  a 
navigable  channel  to  the  sea.  It  is  the  frontier  town  of  Georgia,  on 
the  west,  the  Chatahouchee  here  separating  that  State  from  Alabama. 
There  are  some  pretty  falls  and  cataracts  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
town,  which  well  repay  the  trouble  of  a  visit. 

I  left  Columbus,  after  a  brief  stay,  for  Montgomery.  Between 
these  two  places,  the  country  is  wild  but  not  uninteresting.  On 
crossing  the  Chatahouchee  into  Alabama,  it  seemed  as  if  I  had 
passed  from  an  old  country  into  a  new.  And  such,  indeed,  was  the 
case,  the  western  part  of  Georgia  having  been  much  earlier  settled 
and  much  longer  cultivated  than  the  more  easterly  belt  of  the  con* 
terminous  State.  For  some  time  after  'entering  Alabama  my  road 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  65 

led  through  a  portion  of  the  territory  which  had  gnce  been  the  domain 
of  the  Cherokees  and  the  Creeks,  but  of  which  they  had  been 
divested  by  means  which  the  American  casuist  may  fancy  himself 
able  to  justify.  Well  aware  that  the  better  regions  of  Alabama  were 
before  me,  I  was  not  disappointed  with  the  sample  of  it  presented 
along  the  road  between  the  frontier  and  Montgomery.  The  land  was 
not  of  the  most  fertile  description,  neither  could  it  be  called  poor. 
For  two-thirds  of  the  way,  it  was  only  at  long  intervals  that  anything 
like  clearances  were  to  be  seen,  and  it  was  only  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Montgomery  that  I  came  to  what  might  be  termed  regular  planta- 
tions, with  anything  like  decent  or  comfortable  habitations  upon 
them.  On  these  I  could  see  the  slaves  at  work,  on  either  side  of  the 
road ;  their  condition  betokening,  at  a  glance,  the  character  of  their 
owner,  some  being  well  clad,  apparently  well  fed,  and  hilarious  in 
their  dispositions  ;  and  others  in  rags,  with  their  physical  frames  but 
poorly  supported,  and  their  spirits  seemingly  much  depressed.  For 
the  whole  way  the  road  was  excessively  bad,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
a  couple  of  days'  dry  weather,  I  do  not  know  how  we  could  have 
overcome  them. 

As  a  town,  Montgomery  is  not  calculated  to  leave  so  pleasing  an 
impression  upon  the  mind  of  the  stranger  as  either  M aeon  or  Colum- 
bus. I  stayed  in  it  but  an  hour  or  two,  during  which  I  ascertained 
that  it  could  offer  very  excellent  accommodation  to  the  traveller.  After 
arriving  I  took  the  first  steamer  for  Mobile,  and  found  myself,  in  a 
little  more  than  two  hours  after  quitting  the  detestable  stage-coach, 
steaming  at  the  rate  of  eleven  miles  an  hour  down  the  winding 
channel  of  the  Alabama. 

Every  step  that  we  proceeded  on  our  course  to  the  Gulf  served  to 
develope  more  and  more  to  the  eye  the  inexhaustible  resources  of 
this  noble  State.  Both  sides  of  the  river  abounded  with  the  evident 
signs  of  great  fertility,  and  plantations  on  a  scale  equal  to  any  in 
Georgia  were  passed  in  rapid  succession.  The  country  had  not  yet 
lost  the  picturesque  and  undulating  aspect  which  it  had  assumed  in 
western  Georgia  ;  whilst  the  vegetation  with  which  the  face  of 
nature  was  clothed,  and  which  was  equally  varied  with,  was  if  any- 
thing, still  richer  than  that  immediately  to  the  east  of  the  Chatahou- 
chee.  Montgomery  is  not  at  the  head  of  steamboat  navigation,  the 
river  being  navigable  for  about  forty  miles  further  up  to  Wetumpkar, 
where  it  is  interrupted  by  falls,  and  between  which  and  Montgomery 
the  country  is  so  broken  and  varied  as  almost  to  deserve  to  have 
applied  to  it  the  epithet  of  rugged. 

It  was  on  the  Alabama  that  1  first  found  myself  on  board  one  of 
those  high-pressure  steamboats,  which  so  often  prove  fatal  to  their 
passengers,  and  which  have  so  ominous  a  name  to  European  ears. 
It  was  some  time  ere  I  could  reconcile  myself  to  my  position,  and 

G* 


66  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

for  most  of  the  voyage  I  kept  at  a  respectable  distance  from  the 
boilers.  We  had  but  little  cotton  on  board,  although  the  boats  on 
this  river  are  sometimes  very  heavily  laden  with  that  commodity,  on 
its  way  to  Mobile  for  exportation,  the  quantity  on  board  increasing 
at  almost  every  station  at  which  they  call  between  Montgomery  and 
that  city. 

As  the  voyage  from  Montgomery  to  the  coast  consumes  at  least  the 
greater  part  of  two  days,  the  steamers  on  the  Alabama  are,  of  course, 
well  provided  with  sleeping  accommodations.  The  saloon,  which 
extended  almost  from  one  end  of  the  boat  to  the  other,  was  lined  on 
either  side  by  a  double  row  of  excellent  berths,  in  which  the  pas- 
senger could  do  anything  except  sleep.  For  this  the  berths  were  not 
to  blame,  the  cause  of  it  being  the  perpetual  jarring  of  the  boat,  the 
powerful  engines  with  which  it  was  provided  making  it  vibrate  at 
every  stroke,  like  a  harp-string  on  being  touched.  There  was  a 
crowd  of  passengers  on  board,  most  of  whom  were,  to  judge  from 
appearances,  highly  respectable ;  but  there  were  a  few  whose  look, 
conduct,  and  demeanour,  but  too  plainly  told  to  what  class  of  des- 
peradoes they  belonged.  They  were  most  respectably  dressed,  but 
kept  almost  constantly  together,  there  being  too  many  people  on 
board  to  allow  of  their  carrying  matters  with  the  high  hand  with 
which  they  conduct  their  operations  on  the  Mississippi  and  some  of 
its  tributaries.  They  belonged  to  the  class  of  professional  gamblers, 
who  form  so  large  an  ingredient  in  the  population  of  the  South  ;  and, 
taking  them  altogether,  they  had  the  most  sinister  look  about  them 
that  1  had  ever  witnessed.  It  seemed  to  be  generally  understood 
who  and  what  they  were ;  and  although  a  few  conversed  and  played 
a  little  with  them,  they  were  prudently  shunned  by  the  great  bulk  of 
the  passengers.  Their  gambling  habits  are  not  the  only  bad  feature 
about  them,  it  being  sometimes  their  delight,  and  at  other  times  their 
object,  for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves,  to  create  disturbances 
amongst  the  passengers,  which,  in  these  fiery  latitudes^  are  so  often 
fatal  to  those  who  are  implicated.  When  the  voyage  is  long,  and 
there  are  but  few  respectable  people  on  board  who  can  protect 
themselves  by  their  numbers,  a  gang  of  these  fellows  are  not  only 
troublesome,  but  dangerous  as  fellow-passengers.  Public  opinion, 
however,  is  now,  even  in  the  South,  so  decidedly  against  them,  that 
this  great  drawback  to  travelling  in  the  South  and  West  is  fast 
diminishing. 

Amongst  my  fellow-passengers  was  a  young  Irishman,  whose 
ready  wit,  active  fancy,  and  lively  rattling  conversation,  went  far  to 
beguile  the  tedium  ot  a  long  and  rather  monotonous  sail.  He  had 
been  "caught  young,"  as  he  said  himself,  having  emigrated  with  his 
parents  at  a  very  tender  age  to  America.  He  was,  when  I  met  him, 
the  travelling  agent  of  a  large  mercantile  establishment  in  New  York, 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  67 

his  occupation  keeping  him  in  almost  constant  locomotion,  and  fre- 
quently leading  him  to  the  South,  with  every  portion  of  which  he 
appeared  to  be  well  acquainted. 

"You'll  be  going  to  New  Orleans?"  said  he  to  me  as  we  were 
conversing  together  the  first  night  in  the  saloon  over  a  sherry-cobbler, 
previously  to  retiring  for  the  night. 

"That,  for  the  present,  is  my  destination,"  I  replied. 

"  And  a  mighty  fine  place  you'll  find  New  Orleans  to  be,"  con- 
tinued he;  "  indeed,  I  prefer  it  to  all  the  other  towns  in  the 
Union." 

"That's  strange,"  said  I,  "for  in  more  than  one  respect  its 
character  is  none  of  the  best." 

"  Is  it  character  you're  speakin'  off?"  he  rejoined  ;  "  sure  there's 
no  other  town  in  the  whole  country  where  you'll  find  green  peas  in 
the  month  of  January." 

I  could  not  but  confess  that  in  this  at  least  there  was  nothing  un- 
favourable to  the  town. 

"  And  as  for  mint-juleps,"  he  continued,  "  they  begin  to  drink  them 
there  before  winter  has  thought  of  going  off  for  the  season  in  the 
north.  What  think  you  of  that?" 

"  That  the  sooner  they  begin  they're  the  sooner  over,"  said  I ; 
"  besides,  they  have  the  satisfaction  of  beginning  them  in  the  north 
when  you're  tired  of  them  at  New  Orleans." 

"  Yes,  but  you  see  you  can  enjoy  that  satisfaction  with  them,  by 
going  north  with  the  juleps,"  he  observed.  "  Nothing  can  be  nicer 
than  keeping  on  the  track  of  the  warm  weather,  and  for  weeks  find- 
ing yourself  only  in  the  beginning  of  summer,  drinking  bumpers  to 
it  morning,  noon,  and  night.  Many's  the  time  I  have  thus  juleped 
it  from  New  Orleans  to  Portland." 

I  could  not  but  confess  to  the  excellence  of  mint-juleps  in  hot 
weather,  although  I  could  not  see  the  pleasure  of  being  drenched 
with  them.  On  observing  this  to  him,  he  assured  me  that  he  was  no 
slave  to  them,  as  he  alternated  pretty  frequently  between  the  julep, 
the  cobbler,  the  phlegm-cutter,  and  the  gin-sling. 

"  Besides,"  said  he,  "  I  like,  when  I  can  manage  it,  to  take  the 
strawberries  along  with  them." 

"  What,"  said  I,  "  then  you  have  also  travelled  north  with  the 
strawberries  ?" 

"  That  I  have,"  he  replied,  "  and  nice  companions  they  are,  to  be 
sure.  They  seemed  to  grow  under  my  feet  as  I  went  along,  and  I 
have  sometimes  almost  lived  on  them  for  days  together.  Yes,"  he  con- 
tinued, depositing  his  quid  into  the  spittoon  at  his  feet,  "I  have  dined 
on  strawberries,  and  taken  my  baccy  for  a  dessert." 

"  Which  could  you  most  easily  dispense  with,"  I  asked,  "  the 
strawberries  or  the  tobacco  ?" 


68  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

"  That's  as  much  as  to  say,"  said  he,  "  which  could  you  most 
easily  give  up,  a  luxury  or  a  necessity?" 

"  Do  you  place  either  in  the  category  of  necessaries  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  I  look  on  one  of  them  as  both  a  luxury  and  a  necessity,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "  strawberries  are  a  luxury,  but  tobacco  is  as  necessary  to  me 
as  it  is  agreeable ;  I  have  chewed  since  I  was  knee  high  to  a  goose, 
and  will  go  on  chewing  until  I'm  a  gone  goose." 

"  I  wish  all  your  countrymen,"  I  observed,  "  had  as  ample  means 
of  appeasing  their  appetites  as  you  have." 

"  The  more  fools  they  if  they  hav'nt,"  said  he. 

"  Why  don't  they  come  here,  where  they  can  not  only  appease 
but  also  pamper  their  appetites?  Instead  of  living  here  in  plenty 
and  quiet,  they  starve  at  home  on  nothing  and  agitation.  The  more 
fools  they." 

"  But  the  majority  of  Irishmen  who  do  emigrate,  do  not  seem  to 
improve  their  condition  much,"  said  I. 

"  Ah  sure,  but  they  do !"  said  he  quickly.  "  Isn't  anything  an 
improvement  upon  Ireland?  Besides,  you'd  hardly  know  them  in 
the  second  generation.  My  father  hadn't  a  shoe  to  his  foot  till  he 
was  seventeen ;  nor  I  till  I  was  seven.  He's  dead  and  gone,  and 
here  I  am.  Faith,  he  would  hardly  know  me  now  if  he  saw  me. 
How  many  generations  would  it  take  to  make  the  change  in 
Ireland  !  Why,  here,  a  gentleman  can  be  made  out  of  the  coarsest 
stuff  in  half  a  lifetime." 

"  Then  you  think,"  said  I, ,"  that  your  fellow-countrymen  should 
emigrate  more  with  a  view  to  the  advantage  of  their  descendants 
than  that  of  themselves?" 

"I  mean,"  he  replied,  "  that  they  should  come  here  for  their  own, 
as  well  as  for  their  children's  benefit.  If  they  do  not  much  improve 
their  own  condition,  that  of  their  immediate  descendants  will  be 
vastly  bettered.  But  no  Irishman  need  come  here  without  finding 
it  to  his  advantage.  In  this  country  the  poorest  man  need  not  be  for 
any  length  of  time  without  plenty  to  eat,  a  coat  to  his  back,  shoes  to 
his  feet,  and  a  good  hat  on  his  head ;  for,  republican  though  it  be, 
this  is  the  only  country  in  the  world  in  which  every  man  wears  a 
crown.  Fools  they  are,  say  I  again,  to  stay  at  home  eating  one 
another  up,  when  there  are  not  mouths  enough  in  this  country  to 
consume  all  that  it  produces." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  your  countrymen  are  not  so  universally  insensible 
to  the  advantages  of  emigration  as  you  seem  to  suppose,  as  witness 
the  shoals  in  which  they  yearly  land  in  Canada  and  the  United 
States.  Thousands  more  would  follow  them  if  they  had  the  means 
of  doing  so." 

"  Why  don't  the  landlords  help  them  ?"  he  inquired.  "lam  sure 
it  would  be  a  good  bargain  on  both  sides.  To  the  landlords,  the 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  69 

people's  room  would  be  more  agreeable  than  their  company,  whilst 
the  parting  with  their  landlords  would  not  be  a  matter  of  much  re- 
gret to  the  people.'3 

"There  would  be  but  little  love  lost  on  either  side,"  I  replied. 
"  Some  of  the  landlords,  however,  have  liberally  aided  in  this  way; 
but  the  majority  have  done,  are  doing,  and  will  do,  nothing.  Irish 
landlordism  is  an  enigma  which  nobody  can  solve ;  a  gigantic  abor- 
tion, based  on  fallacy,  and  floundering  between  difficulty  and  appre- 
hension." 

"  But  can  the  government  do  nothing?" 

"Yes,"  I  observed,  "  it  can  and  does;  for  it  occupies  its  time, 
taxes  its  ingenuity,  and  exhausts  its  energies,  first  in  devising  pau- 
pers, and  then  in  devising  laws  for  their  relief.  But  it  takes  no 
steps  towards  the  eradication  of  the  evil  by  a  judicious  and  well- 
sustained  system  of  emigration.  It  shrinks  from  the  subject  as  you 
would  from  an  alligator.  Talk  to  it  of  emigration,  and  it  shrugs  its 
shoulders,  hems  and  haws,  says  much,  that  means  nothing,  of  diffi- 
culties in  the  way,  interference  with  private  enterprise,  and  ends  by 
saying  that  it  can  do  nothing.  Not  only  is  there  a  noble  field  in 
this  country  for  our  pent-up  surplus  population,  but  within  a  month's 
easy  sail  of  our  poor-houses,  we  have,  in  Canada,  a  rich,  fertile  do- 
minion of  our  own,  the  greater  portion  by  far  of  which  is  yet  but  a 
preserve  for  rabbits,  deer,  bears,  and  wolves.  Yes,  strange  as  it  may 
appear,  we  have  under  the  same  flag,  and  at  no  great  distance  from 
each  other,  infinite  poverty  and  inexhaustible  resources,  and  yet  the 
one  cannot  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  other  with  a  view  to  its 
relief.  Here  the  wilderness  waits  for  cultivation — there  the  multi- 
tudes pine  to  be  fed.  Yet  the  poor-houses  are  being  constantly 
filled,  whilst  the  wolf  and  the  bear  are  left  undisturbed.  At  the  bot- 
tom of  all  this  there  is  but  little  foresight,  and  much  false  economy." 

"  But  why  don't  the  country  force  the  subject  upon  the  govern- 
ment?" inquired  my  companion. 

"  Simply  because,  inexplicable  though  it  may  seem,  the  country 
is  not  yet  sufficiently  of  one  way  of  thinking  upon  it.  There  is  a 
set  of  men  with  no  little  influence  who  set  their  faces  against  emi- 
gration, calling  it  transportation,  and  insisting  upon  it  that  England 
is  large  enough  to  subsist  not  only  all  her  present  population,  but 
many  more.  They  forget  that  the  question  of  subsistence  is  one  of 
pressing  urgency,  and  that  the  starving  multitude  cannot  afford  to 
wait  until  all  their  schemes  are  in  operation  for  the  better  develop- 
ment of  the  country's  resources.  The  question  to  decide  is,  not 
how  many  England  could  support  with  all  her  resources  in  full  play, 
or  with  a  different  distribution  than  now  prevails  of  the  means  of 
subsistence  which  she  actually  possesses ,  but  has  she,  or  has  she 
not,  for  the  time  being,  a  surplus  population?  If  so,  she  should,  in 
the  most  advantageous  way  for  all  parties,  rid  herself  of  a  present 


70  THE  WESTERN   WORLD. 

evil,  whilst  schemes  are  in  preparation  which,  at  the  best,  can  only 
be  productive  of  a  future  good.  Besides,  there  are  grave  considera- 
tions connected  with  her  commercial  prospects  which  should  induce 
England  to  raise  up  for  herself  markets  in  all  her  colonies.  Not 
only  in  Ireland,  but  also  in  England  and  Scotland,  there  are  multi- 
tudes of  drones  in  the  busy  hive,  who  would  become  active  honey- 
makers  abroad.  But  the  subject  is  endless,  and  we  cannot  well 
longer  pursue  it,  for  I  see  we  are  disturbing  the  sleepers  around  us." 

This  last  remark  was  elicited  by  the  sudden  apparition  of  a  head 
in  a  blue  nightcap  with  a  red  tassel,  which  projected  from  between 
the  curtains  of  one  of  the  berths  opposite  me.  It  had  two  very 
large  bright  blue  eyes  in  it,  which  were  steadily  fixed  upon  me  whilst 
I  made  the  observation,  and  remained  so  for  a  few  seconds  after- 
wards, making  the  whole  scene  both  fascinating  and  ludicrous. 
"  Young  man,"  said  it  at  last,  opening  its  mouth,  which  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  sandy  beard,  in  good  state  for  the  razor,  "  it's  mighty 
fine  that  there  discoorse,  and  mayhap  it  isn't,  by  gum  ;  but  I'll  tell 
yoo  what  it  is,  you  had  better  adjourn  the  meetin',  and  give  us  the 
concloodin'  part  of  the  subject  at  breakfast,  you  had."  It  then,  after 
spitting  twice  upon  the  floor  by  way  of  emphasis,  suddenly  disap- 
peared, when  the  curtains  resumed  their  former  position. 

"  I  fear,"  said  I,  speaking  at  the  place  which  had  just  been  vacated 
by  the  apparition,  "  we  have  not  only  to  beg  your  pardon,  but  that 
of  many  others  around,  for  any  disturbance  that  we  may  have  caused 
them  ;  but " 

Here  I  was  interrupted  by  my  fellow-delinquent,  who  was  not  dis- 
posed to  be  quite  so  complaisant  in  his  reply  ;  for,  after  sundry 
ejaculations,  calling  for  direct  injury  to  his  own  eyes,  he  asked  the 
head  where  it  had  got  "  so  much  night-cap" — where,  after  certain 
contingencies,  it  "  expected  to  go  to"  if  it  was  "  ill  oft'  for  goose- 
grease;"  and  a  variety  of  other  questions  to  which  it  was  hot  every 
head  that  would  have  quietly  submitted.  How  long  the  particular 
head  in  question  would  have  done  so  was  problematical  ;  but  seeing 
the  curtains  of  a  ntimber  of  other  berths  in  motion,  I  drew  the 
Irishman's  attention  to  the  circumstance,  and  he  had  good  sense  and 
good  feeling  enough  at  once  to  take  the  hint.  Swallowing  the 
remainder  of  his  sherry-cobbler  at  a  draught,  he  expressed  a  desire 
to  have  "  another  drain,"  but  the  bar  having  been  closed  half  an  hour 
previously,  he  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed  without  it.  In  a  few  minutes 
I  observed  him  tumbling  into  one  of  the  fore  berths,  with  everything 
on  but  his  coat,  after  placing  a  spittoon  in  a  convenient  position  for 
any  purposes  for  which  it  might  be  required. 

I  remained  seated  for  some  time  after  he  had  left  me,  musing 
upon  the  singularity  of  my  position.  I  appeared  to  be  the  only  oc- 
cupant of  the  saloon,  for  no  other  human  form  was  visible  to  me. 
And  yet  I  was  surrounded  by  about  a  hundred  people,  all  of  whom 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  71 

were  then  packed,  as  it  were,  upon  a  double  row  of  shelves,  with 
red  damask  curtains  in  front,  to  conceal  them  from  view  and  keep 
them  from  the  dust.  Most  of  them  were  asleep,  as  was  evident  from 
their  heavy  regular  breathing ;  and  this  concord  of  respiration  pro- 
ceeding from  so  many  points,  made  the  scene  all  the  more  lonely 
and  impressive.  The  machinery  was  busily  at  work  under  my  feet, 
the  water  was  gurgling  past  me  on  either  side,  and  at  each  stroke  of 
the  engine  the  frail  craft  shook  through  her  whole  length,  as  if  she 
were  a  floating  earthquake.  But  one  solitary  lamp  gleamed  in  the 
cabin,  casting  a  faint  yellow  light  about  the  centre,  where  I  was 
seated,  but  leaving  its  distant  extremities  shrouded  in  gloom,  so 
much  so  that  I  sometimes  fancied  myself  a  lonely  watcher  in  a  huge 
vault,  in  which  the  dead  had  been  long  deposited,  and  in  which 
some  were  just  awaking  from  trances  which  had  closely  resembled 
death.  And  all  this  at  midnight  on  the  devious  current  of  the  Ala- 
bama, so  far  from  home  and  friends,  and  everything  that  was  familiar 
to  me !  I  was  then  in  the  very  depths  of  those  interminable  forests, 
with  the  romantic  tales  of  whose  former  occupants  my  youthful  ima- 
gination had  been  so  often  fired ;  afloat  on  one  of  those  streams 
whose  marvellous  extent  and  capabilities  had  so  frequently  excited 
my  astonishment;  and  traversing  the  very  regions  in  which  Raleigh 
had  sought  for  an  El  Dorado,  and  Soto  and  his  followers  had  vainly 
searched  for  .gold. 

It  was  not  long  ere  I  yielded  to  the  somnolent  influences  of  the 
scene ;  and,  having  retired  to  my  berth,  I  slept  as  well  as  could 
be  expected  of  one  lying,  as  it  were,  in  the  hopper  of  a  mill. 

Next  morning  I  rejoined  my  Irish  friend  at  breakfast,  when  we 
resumed,  in  a  low  voice,  the  conversation  of  the  previous  evening. 
Whether  the  head  with  the  night-cap  was  or  was  not  within  hearing 
distance  of  us,  was  more  than  we  could  tell ;  for,  on  looking  for  it, 
we  found  it  impossible  to  distinguish  it,  divested  of  its  nocturnal 
appendage. 

I  remained  on  deck  most  of  the  day,  although  the  sky  was  clear 
aid  the  sun  of  a  broiling  heat.  The  level  of  the  country  was  still 
elevated,  and  its  surface  undulating  and  picturesque,  the  forest, 
amongst  other  woods,  containing  an  immense  variety  of  laurel,  hav- 
ing a  most  refreshing  look  to  the  eye.  The  river,  as  at  Montgomery, 
was  not  of  very  great  width,  being  no  broader  than  the  Thames  at 
high  water  in  Battersea-reach ;  and  so  free  from  obstruction  was  its 
channel,  and  so  uniform  was  its  depth,  that  although  it  runs  at  the 
average  rate  of  three  miles  an  hour,  its  current  was  scarcely  dis- 
cernible. Now  it  passed  through  an  open  country,  where  its  banks 
were  low  and  chequered  by  alternations  of  forest  and  plantation  ; 
then  it  would  wind  through  bold  and  precipitous  bluffs,  varying  from 
100  to  200  feet  high;  after  which  it  would  again  take  a  serpentine 
course  through  an  open  tract,  again  to  pass  through  bluffs  as  before. 


72  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

The  different  settlements  which  were  visible  on  its  banks  were  gene- 
rally situated  on  these  bluffs,  the  inhabitants  building  their  houses,  as 
much  as  possible,  in  upper  air,  to  escape  the  malaria  of  the  lower 
levels.  In  the  afternoon  we  reached  Fort  Claiborne,  a  sort  of  mili- 
tary station  on  a  small  scale,  with  a  little  town  contiguous  to  it ; 
and  here  I  was  separated  from  my  Irish  fellow-traveller,  who  was  to 
remain  for  a  couple  of  days  in  the  town,  having  some  business  to 
transact  in  it.  He  advised  me,  on  parting,  to  be  careful  of  myself 
in  New  Orleans  ;  and,  as  the  sickly  season  was  approaching,  by  all 
means  to  "  make  myself  scarce"  before  catching  the  "  fivver."  He 
was  a  singular  mixture  of  levity  and  soberness,  folly  and  good  sense, 
and  possessed  great  knowledge  of  the  country,  from  which  I  should 
have  profited  more  had  we  been  longer  together. 

A  little  below  Fort  Claiborne,  a  great  change  becomes  perceptible 
in  the  conformation  and  aspect  of  the  country.  On  descending  the 
river  from  that  point  the  bluffs  are  found  to  be  less  frequent  and 
elevated,  until,  at  length,  they  entirely  disappear,  where  the  stream 
debouches  upon  the  coast  region  resting  upon  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
The  elevated  and  rolling  country  from  which  the  traveller  then 
emerges,  is  the  scene  of  the  last  appearance  of  the  Alleghariies,  in 
their  prolonged  course  towards  the  south-west.  In  the  northern  part 
of  the  State,  the  mountainous  range,  as  in  Georgia,  is  still  bold  and 
lofty,  but  rapidly  subsides  into  detached  hills,  covered  with  wood  to 
the  top,  in  pursuing  its  way  to  the  centre  of  the  State,  after  which  it 
declines  into  mere  undulations  of  the  surface;  and  at  last,  after 
extending  in  one  unbroken  chain  from  the  western  part  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, in  the  neighbourhood  of  Lake  Erie,  disappears  altogether 
within  a  hundred  miles  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Once  in  the  coast 
region,  the  eye  is  no  longer  charmed  with  the  rich  variety  of  vege- 
tation which  characterised  the  upper  country,  or  with  its  waving  out- 
lines and  picturesque  effects.  All  is  flat,  wearisome,  and  monoto- 
nous, as  in  the  corresponding  region  on  the  Atlantic  coast.  But 
the  soil  in  the  low  parts  of  Alabama  is,  on  the  whole,  far  richer  than 
that  of  a  large  proportion  of  the  great  belt  of  land  extending  from 
the  Potomac  to  the  Alatamaha.  Taking  it  all  in  all,  Alabama  is  not 
surpassed,  in  point  of  fertility,  by  any  of  the  sister  States  of  the 
Confederation.  The  rolling  country  constituting  its  northern  and 
north-eastern  sections,  produces  cotton  and  Indian  corn  in  abund- 
ance, cotton  being  the  staple  chiefly  cultivated  in  the  rich  level 
flats  of  the  west  and  south,  as  it  is  indeed  the  chief  staple  of  the 
whole  State.  Both  in  this  State  and  in  Mississippi,  immediately  to 
the  west  of  it,  the  cultivation  of  the  cotton  plant  is  carried  to  an  ex- 
tent which  has  already  rendered  them  most  formidable  rivals  to  the 
Atlantic  States  of  the  south,  which  so  long  "possessed  a  virtual  mo- 
nopoly of  this  staple. 

In  the  gradual  subsidence  of  the  country  from  the  upper  to  the 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  73 

lower  level,  the  vegetation  with  which  it  is-  covered  undergoes  a 
perceptible  change.  The  live  oak,  the  laurel,  the  mulberry,  the 
chestnut,  and  the  hickory,  become  less  frequent  in  their  appearance ; 
the  pine,  the  cedar,  and  the  cypress  gradually  taking  their  places, 
and  prevailing  more  and  more  as  you  approach  the  coast.  The 
spectral  outline  of  the  one,  the  lank  and  leaning  trunk  of  the  other, 
and  the  dark  sombre  colour  of  the  third,  impart  gloom  to  a  scene 
otherwise  sufficiently  dreary  and  monotonous.  Rich  bottom  lands, 
swamps,  pine  barrens,  and  small  prairies,  follow  each  other  in  dull 
succession,  the  only  things  which  exist  to  enliven  the  journey  being 
the  company  on  board,  and  the  activity  which  is  sometimes  visible 
on  the  plantations  on  either  side,  where  hordes  of  negroes  are  at 
their  daily  task  under  a  hot  sun  and  a  generally  merciless  overseer. 
Like  all  the  western  and  southern  rivers,  pursuing  their  respective 
courses  through  the  extensive  flat  regions,  which,  by  their  combined 
action  for  untold  ages  they  have  themselves  conjured  into  existence, 
the  Alabama  here  pursues  a  most  serpentine  course,  winding  and 
zigzagging  through  the  level  open  country,  as  if  it  were  loath  to  quit 
it,  and  bent  upon  irrigating  it  in  the  most  efficient  manner.  The 
current,  in  this  part  of  its  progress,  diminishes  its  strength,  and  the 
banks  are  frequently  lined  wiih  long  rank  grass  and  rushes,  amid 
which  the  timid  alligator  may  be  sometimes  seen  basking  in  the  sun. 
The  river  was  low  and  peaceful  when  I  descended  it,  but  when  in 
flood,  the  Alabama  is  sometimes  a  rolling  devastating  torrent. 

Rich  and  fertile  as,  on  the  whole,  this  region  is,  although 
interspersed  with  many  unproductive  tracts,  it  is  not  very  desirable 
as  a  place  of  residence,  inasmuch  as,  for  several  months  in  the  year, 
it  is  visited  with  the  same  heavy  curse  which,  from  July  till  October, 
annually  descends  upon  the  tide-water  region  on  the  Atlantic.  A  hot 
sun,  blazing  for  days,  weeks,  and  months  upon  stagnant  pools  and 
putrid  swamps,  and  a  reeking  fermenting  earth,  rich  with  vegetable 
decomposition,  cannot  fail  to  produce  the  noxious  malaria,  which 
prevails  at  all  seasons  of  the  year,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  but 
which  about  the  close  of  summer  attains  a  virulence  which  renders  it 
incumbent  on  all,  who  can,  to  fly  from  its  poisonous  influences.  For 
the  greater  part  of  the  year,  the  coast  region  cannot  be  called 
absolutely  unhealthy  ;  but  it  is  much  inferior,  in  point  of  salubrity,  to 
the  middle  and  more  elevated  section  of  the  State.  Even  there  the 
people,  in  building  their  towns,  find  it  prudent  to  occupy  the  bluffs 
instead  of  the  low  lands,  that  they  may  be  as  much  as  possible  out  of 
the  reach  of  the  malaria  during  the  sickly  months.  In  the  northern 
and  hilly  portions  of  the  State,  the  climate  is  rnild,  and  the  air 
comparatively  pure  and  salubrious. 

About  fifty  miles  from  the  coast  the  Alabama  unites  with  another 
river  called  the  Tornbeckbee,  after  which  the  confluent  streams 
pursue  their  peaceable  course  to  the  Gulf,  under  the  designation  of 

VOL.  If.— 7 


74  THE  WESTERN   WORLD. 

he  Mobile.  Along  the  banks  of  this  stream  the  pine-barrens  are 
more  frequent  than  along  the  Alabama ;  and  although  fertile  tracts 
are  not  wanting,  they  are  neither  so  numerous  nor  so  well  cultivated 
as  on  the  banks  of  the  latter  river.  On  the  forenoon  of  the  second 
day  after  leaving  Montgomery,  we  came  in  sight  of  the  city  of  Mo- 
bile, and  much  rejoiced  was  I,  after  my  long  overland  journey,  once 
more  to  approach  the  coast,  as  it  was  evident  that  we  were  doing, 
from  the  many  steamers  which  were  clustered  about  the  wharves, 
and  the  square-rigged  vessels  which  were  seen  at  anchor  beyond. 

The  city  of  Mobile,  the  commercial  emporium,  though  not  the 
political  capital  of  the  State  of  Alabama,  (the  city  of  Tuscaloosa 
in  the  interior  enjoying  the  latter  dignity,)  is  a  tolerably  large  and 
very  handsome  town,  occupying  a  most  advantageous  situation  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  Mobile  River,  at  its  entrance  into  the  fine, 
spacious,  and  open  Bay  of  Mobile.  The  portion  -of  the  town 
immediately  contiguous  to  the  quays  is  about  as  unattractive  as  the 
corresponding  parts  of  most  seaport  towns  are  found  to  be,  the 
streets  being,  for  the  most  part,  narrow,  ill-ventilated,  and  not  over 
clean.  Behind  them,  however,  the  town  developes  itself  in  a  very 
different  aspect,  the  portion  of  it  which  lies  back  from  the  river 
being  situated  on  a  gentle  acclivity,  commanding,  from  many  points, 
a  good  view  of  the  harbour,  and  affording  every  opportunity  for  the 
regularity  of  plan  with  which  this. part  of  it  is  characterised.  The 
main  streets  are  long  and  broaS,  well  shaded  by  trees,  and  admirably 
paved.  Nothing  can  be  conceived  cleaner  and  more  comfortable 
than  this  section  of  the  town,  attention  to  cleanliness  having  been 
rendered  indispensable  from  the  fat'ality  with  which  the  yellow  fever 
used  to  visit  Mobile.  A  great  many  9f  its  private,  as  well  as  most 
of  its  public  edifices,  are  constructed  of  brick,  but  the  bulk  of  the 
town  is  built  of  wood.  Some  years  ago;.a  destructive  fire  laid  one- 
third  of  it  in  ashes;  but  it  has  since  recovered, from  the  effects  of  this 
terrible  visitation.  It  would  be  difficult»*to  find  anywhere  a  more 
hospitable  set  of  people  than  the  better  portion  of  the  population  of 
Mobile,  although  a  large  proportion  of  the  lower  orders  are  prone 
to  a  dissoluteness  of  manners  equal  to  that  characteristic  of  the 
corresponding  classes  of  the  more  immoral  of  European  capitals. 
The  situation  of  the  town  is,  on  the  whole,  very  favourable  to  health, 
from  the  nature  of  the  site  which  it  occupies,  and  the  open,  airy  bay 
at  the  head  of  which  it  stands.  The  attention  which  has  recently 
been  paid  to  cleanliness  has  very  much  diminished  the  amount  of 
disease  and  mortality  which  formerly  prevailed  in  it.  The  country 
around  is,  in  most  directions,  sandy  and  dry,  covered  with  pine,  and 
cedar,  and  oak,  the  tract  immediately  contiguous  to  the  town  being 
dotted  with  the  villas  and  country  residences  of  the  wealthier  class 
of  its  inhabitants. 

The  hotels  in  Mobile  are  on  a  most  extensive  arid  sumptuous  scale, 


THE  WESTERN    WORLD.  75 


scarcely  surpassed  by  any  of  those  in  New  York,  Boston,  or  Phila- 
delphia. The  population  of  the  town  may  now  be  taken  at  about 
30,000,  of  which  number  not  more  than  one-half  are  whites,  the 
remainder  being  slaves  ;  for  the  free  coloured  population  of  the  town 
is  too  insignificant  in  point  of  number  to  be  taken  into  the  account. 
In  the  character  of  a  portion  of  the  population,  as  well  as  in  other 
circumstances,  the  stranger  can  see  proofs  of  the  comparatively 
recent  annexation  of  this  portion  of  the  country  to  the  Republican 
confederacy.  It  was  only  as  late  as  1813  that  it  was  transferred  by 
Spain  to  the  Union,  about  ten  years  after  the  purchase  of  Louisiana 
from  the  French.  The  existence  of  a  Royal-street  in  Mobile,  and  of 
a  Rue  Royale  in  New  Orleans,  is  of  itself  indicative  of  these  two 
places  having  remained  more  or  less  under  monarchical  rule  until  the 
furor  of  the  American  revolution  was  over,  during  the  prevalence  of 
which  every  King-street,  King-alley,  King-court,  and  King-lane 
within  the  then  limits  of  the  Union  received  names  more  in  accor- 
dance with  the  dominant  ideas  of  the  time. 

Mobile  is  a  place  of  great  commercial  activity,  being,  after  New 
Orleans,  the  most  important  American  seaport  on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
Cotton  is,  of  course,  the  staple  article  of  its  export ;  its  import  trade 
being  large,  but  much  below  that  which  it  transacts  in  the  way  of 
exportation.  It  now  ships  more  cotton  for  the  North,  and  for 
Europe,  than  either  Charleston  or  Savannah,  and  bids  fair  soon 
immeasurably  to  out-distance  as  a  commercial  emporium  both  of 
these  places.  The  cotton  shipped  from  Mobile  is  chiefly  the  growth 
of  South  Alabama,  that  is  to  say,  about  two-thirds  the  entire  crop  of 
the  State.  It  also  ships  a  great  deal  that  is  grown  in  the  south- 
eastern section  of  Mississippi,  a  small  portion  of  that  State  abutting, 
contiguous  to  Alabama,  upon  the  Gulf,  but  possessing  no  seaport 
town  of  any  importance  of  its  own.  The  produce  of  Western  and 
Northern  Mississippi,  however,  as  well  as  that  of  Northern  Alabama, 
finds  its  way  to  the  ocean  through  New  Orleans,  that  city  being 
more  accessible  to  these  portions  of  the  two  States  than  Mobile. 
Though  far  from  possessing  those  advantages  of  position  which  New 
Orleans  commands  to  so  extraordinary  an  extent,  Mobile  is  most 
favorably  situated  as  an  entrepot  for  both  an  export  and  import  trade. 
I  have  already  shown  the  capabilities  of  the  Alabama,  in  a  navigable 
point  of  view,  from  Montgomery  to  Mobile,  a  distance  of  between 
300  and  400  miles.  The  Coossa,  again,  is  navigable  from  Mont- 
gomery to  Wetumpka,  about  forty  miles  further  north ;  so  that  the 
line  of  internal  navigation  from  Wetumpka  to  Mobile,  taking  Mont- 
gomery in  the  wny,  may  be  stated  as  exceeding  400  miles.  The 
richness  and  capabilities  of  the  different  regions  through  which  it 
flows  have  already  been  described.  The  other  chief  river  of  Alabama 
is  the  Tombeckbee,  which  is  navigable  for  steamers  of  but  small 
draught  to  Columbus  in  the  State  of  Mississippi.  Tuscaloosa,  the 


76  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

cnpkal  of  Alabama,  is  situated  upon  a  tributary  of  this  river,  called 
the  Black  Warrior,  which  is  navigable  up  to  the  city  for  small 
steamers.  The  district  through  which  the  Tombeckbee  flows,  with 
its  branches,  is  if  possible  more  fertile  and  better  cultivated  than  that 
drained  by  the  Alabama.  Thus  both  these  streams,  rising  either  by 
themselves  or  some  of  their  tributaries  in  the  north-eastern  and 
north-western  extremities  of  the  State,  after  pursuing  the  one  a 
south-westerly  and  the  other  a  south-easterly  course,  unite,  as  already 
stated,  about  fifty  miles  from  the  coast,  into  one  broad  deep  river, 
at  the  entrance  of  which  into  the  bay  stands  the  city  of  Mobile.  It 
will  thus  be  seen  how  the  greater  portion  of  the  exports  of  the  State 
must  necessarily  converge  upon  this  seaport,  and  how  admirably 
it  is  situated  for  the  distribution  of  its  imports  to  different  quarters 
in  the  interior. 

The  bay  is  shallow  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  the  town, 
so  that  the  wharves  are  approached  by  vessels  of  but  comparatively 
small  draught.  Those  of  larger  draught  can  get  to  the  town,  if  they 
take  a  circuitous  route  for  the  purpose  of  doing  so ;  for  they  can 
ascend  a  channel,  called  Spanish  River,  separated  from  it  by  a  low 
sedgy  island,  into  the  Mobile  River,  on  which  they  can  then  drop 
down  to  the  town.  Few  vessels  of  any  size,  however,  approach 
nearer  than  six  miles  to  the  city,  their  cargoes  being  conveyed  to  it 
in  barges,  and  the  cotton  with  which  they  are  laden  being  carried  clown 
to  them  in  the  same  manner.  There  are  sometimes  from  thirty  to 
sixty  vessels  lying  at  anchor  in  the  bay,  at  this  distance  from  the 
town,  all  busily  loading  or  disgorging  their  cargoes — a  sight  which 
is  well  calculated  to  impress  the  tourist  with  the  commercial  impor- 
tance of  the  place.  On  leaving  Mobile,  which  I  did  after  a  stay  of 
four  days  in  the  town,  I  passed  this  anchorage  in  sailing  down  the 
bay,  and  great  was  my  surprise,  some  distance  further  down,  on 
finding  myself  at  another  anchorage,  with  an  equal  number  of  vessels 
in  occupation  of  it.  Only  some  of  them,  however,  were  either 
loading  or  unloading,  the  remainder  having  cleared  the  custom-house, 
being  ready  to  put  td  sea.  If  on  passing  the  upper  anchorage  I  was 
impressed  with  the  commercial  importance  of  Mobile,  I  was  doubly 
so  on  witnessing  this  unexpected  sight  lower  down  the  bay. 

From  Mobile  at  the  head  of  the  bay  to  the  open  Gulf  the  distance 
is  about  thirty  miles.  -  The  shores  on  either  side  as  you  descend  are 
low,  but  the  scene  taken  as  a  whole  is  not  wanting  in  effect.  The 
chief  military  defence  of  Mobile  is  Fort  Morgan,  situated  like  Hurst 
Castle  upon  a  low  sandy  point,  separating  the  bay  from  the  open  sea. 

There  are  two  routes  by  sea  from  Mobile  to  New  Orleans,  one 
being  by  the  Mississippi,  which  has  to  be  ascended  to  the  city  ;  the 
other,  by  Lake  Ponchartrain,  which  is  the  shorter  and  the  safer  of 
the  two.  The  latter  is  of  course  the  usual  route  for  passengers.  On 
emerging  from  Mobile  Bay  we  stood  out  to  sea  for  some  time  before 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  7? 

altering  our  course,  compelled  as  we  were  to  do  so  by  the  shallowness 
of  the  water  close  to  the  shore.  The  shores  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
almost  the  whole  way  round  from  Key  West  to  Yucatan,  are  sandy, 
and  the  water  shallow,  sometimes  for  miles  from  the  coast.  The 
screen  of  low  sandy  islands  which  intervene  between  the  ocean  and 
the  coast,  with  but  little  intermission,  from  the  mouth  of  the  Chesa- 
peake Bay  to  the  pen ursula  of  Florida,  is  prolonged  along  the  shores 
of  the  Gulf,  stretching  in  an  almost  uninterrupted  chain  from  Pensa- 
cola  to  the  Mississippi,  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Rio  Grande,  and 
from  the  Rio  Grande  to  beyond  Vera  Cruz.  These  islands  seem  to 
have  been  engendered  by  the  recoil  of  the  water,  on  being  violently 
thrown  by  storms  upon  the  sandy  coast. 

On  directing  our  course  westward  for  New  Orleans,  which  is 
about  160  miles  distant  from  Mobile,  we  kept  for  some  miles  out  to 
sea,  running  a  parallel  course  with  the  low  shore  in  the  distance. 
We  soon  left  the  coast  of  Alabama  behind  us,  and  approached  the 
swampy  shores  of  Mississippi,  our  course  then  being  chiefly  between 
them  and  the  islands.  Shortly  after  passing  St.  Catharine's  Sound 
we  entered  Lake  Borgue,  an  arm  of  the  Gulf,  on  ascending  which 
we  approached  a  narrow  passage  called  the  Rigolet,  through  which 
we  entered  Lake  Ponchartrain.  To  the  tourist  this  lake  appears 
merely  an  extensive  sheet  of  water,  with  nothing  to  interest  him  on 
its  banks,  which  are  low,  sedgy,  and  unvarying,  like  most  of  the 
coast,  between  it  and  the  Bay  of  Mobile.  From  the  strait  by  which 
we  entered  it  to  its  opposite  side  in  the  direction  of  New  Orleans, 
the  distance  is  about  twenty  miles,  which  we  soon  made,  the  steamer 
on  board  of  which  we  were  being  of  a  very  superior  description.  The 
day  was  excessively  hot,  and  the  lake,  which  was  unruffled,  blazed 
like  a  huge  mirror  in  the  sunshine.  It  was  so  calm  that, .on 
approaching  the  landing-place,  we  could  trace  the  wake  of  the 
steamboat  almost  to  the  strait  by  which  we  had  entered. 

We  landed  upon  one  of  several  wooden  jetties,  projecting  far  into 
the  lake  on  high  wooden  piles.  We  were  then  but  five  miles  distant 
from  New  Orleans,  and  a  train  being  in  readiness  for  us,  we  started 
for  the  city  without  delay. 

I  was  at  length,  then,  fairly  in  the  delta  of  the  Mississippi,  and  its 
aspect  was  as  gloomy  and  repulsive  as  I  had  been  prepared  to 
find  it.  The  tract,  through  which  the  railway  led,  was  as  flat  as  a 
bowling-green  but  seemingly  saturated  with  water.  The  road  led 
straight  through  a  dense  growth  of  timber  such  as  is  found  in  most 
of  the  American  swamps,  the  cypress  and  cedar  abounding  on  either 
side,  with  here  and  there  some  clumps  of  palmettos  interspersed 
amongst  them.  As  we  proceeded  at  the  rate  of  about  twenty  miles 
an  hour,  the  tremulous  ground  seemed  to  quiver  beneath  our  feet. 
The  railway  is  short,  but  its  construction  through  such  a  morass 
must  have  been  a  work  of  no  little  difficulty.  It  was  dusk  ere  we 


78  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

came  in  sight  of  the  city,  and  seen  from  a  little  distance  through  the 
uncertain  twilight,  it  looked  like  a  dark  and  ponderous  exhalation 
surging  slowly  from  the  swamps  around  it. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

NEW    ORLEANS. 

Position  of  the  City — Windings  of  the  Mississippi — Appearance  of  New  Or- 
leans from  the  River. — The  Harbour. — The  Levee. — Peculiarities  of  the  Inte- 
rior of  New  Orleans. — The  French  quarter. — Connexion  of  France  with  the 
American  Continent — Her  evanescent  dominion. — The  Contrast. — The 
American  quarter. — The  St.  Charles. — Environs  of  New  Orleans. — The 

Swamp Extent  and  object  of  the  Levee. — Gradual  elevation  of  the  bed  of 

the  River. — How  far  the  Levee  influences  this. — Probable  Consequences  to 
New  Orleans. — Population  of  New  Orleans — -Its  different  Races. — The 
Creole?. — Quadroons.— Its  Resident  and  Peripatetic  Populations. — Health  of 
New  Orleans. — Exaggerated  notions  respecting  its  Unhealthiness. — Addic- 
tion of  its  Inhabitants  to  Pleasure — Commercial  position  of  New  Orleans. — 
The  Great  Valley  behind  it. — Extent  and  capabilities  of  the  Valley. — Its 
magnificent  River  System. — Political  importance  of  the  position  of  New  Or- 
leans.— Its  future  Greatness — Direct  Communication  between  Europe  and 
the  South. — Southern  Life. 

THE  Crescent  City,  as  New  Orleans  is  not  unpoetically  called,  not 
from  the  little  reverence  which  is  there  paid  to  the  Cross,  but  from 
the  semicircular  sweep  which  it  takes  along  the  curving  shore  of  the 
river,  is  situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  about  one  hun- 
dred miles  above  its  junction  with  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Before  ad- 
verting to  the  nature  of  its  position  in  a  commercial  or  political 
point  of  view,  or  to  the  advantages  which  may  be  incident  to  it  in 
either  of  these  respects,  it  may  be  as  well  first  to  give  a  brief  descrip- 
tion of  the  city  itself,  in  its  physical  and  moral  aspects. 

The  general  course  of  the  Mississippi  being  due  north  and  south, 
the  stranger  would  expect  to  find  it,  New  Orleans  being  situated 
upon  its  left  bank,  on  the  western  side  of  the  town.  On  entering 
the  town,  however,  and  making  for  the  quays,  his  first  impression 
would  be  that  his  notions  of  geography  had  been  all  astray  ;  for  he 
finds  the  river  lying  almost  to  the  east  of  the  town,  and  its  current 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  79 

flowing  nearly  due  north.  The  fact  is,  that  the  Mississippi,  whose 
course  has  been  exceedingly  devious  since  the  junction  of  the  Ohio 
with  it,  here  makes  a  bend  to  the  left,  flowing  eastward  and  then 
northward  a  little,  after  which  it  again  deflects  to  the  right  to  regain 
its  southward  course.  New  Orleans  is  thus  both  east  and  west  of 
the  stream,  having  one  reach  of  it  to  the  east  and  one  to  the  west. 

In  bending  to  the  right,  the  river  forms  a  species  of  bay,  in  the 
recess  of  which  New  Orleans  is  nestled.  Nothing  can  be  more  im- 
posing than  its  position,  as  you  approach  it  by  the  stream.  Almost 
the  entire  length  of  the  noble  amphitheatric  front  which  it  presents 
to  you  is  in  view ;  the  rows  of  warehouses  and  other  commercial 
establishments,  which  follow  each  other  in  rapid  succession,  extend- 
ing for  nearly  three  miles  along  the  margin  of  the  river.  In  front  of 
these,  and  close  to  the  quays,  or  to  the  Levee,  as  the  spacious  pro- 
menade dividing  the  city  from  the  river  is  here  called,  are  numerous 
vessels  of  all  kinds,  and  bearing  the  flags  of  almost  all  nations.  Op- 
posite the  upper  portion  of  the  town,  the  river  is  chiefly  occupied 
by  the  barges  and  keel-boats  which  ascend  and  descend  the  river  for 
short  distances  for  and  with  produce,  and  which  are  also  extensively 
used  for  the  purpose  of  loading  and  unloading  the  vessels  in  the 
harbour.  A  little  below,  you  discern  a  multitude  of  square-rigged 
vessels  of  almost  every  variety  of  tonnage,  lying  moored  abreast  of 
each  other,  like  those  which  occupy  the  Pool  between  London- 
bridge  and  Deptford.  Below  them  again  are  scores  of  steamers, 
built  in  the  most  fantastic  manner,  and  painted  of  the  most  gaudy 
colours,  most  of  them  river  boats,  but  some  plying  between  New 
Orleans  and  Texas.  There  are  also  tug-boats  and  ferry-boats  to 
communicate  with  Algiers,  a  small  town  directly  opposite  New  Or- 
leans, to  give  still  greater  variety  to  this  motley  group  of  wood,  paint, 
paddle-boxes  and  funnels.  Still  further  down,  and  near  the  lower 
end  of  the  harbour,  are  brigs,  schooners,  and  sloops,  arid  other  craft 
of  a  smaller  size,  designed  for,  and  used  chiefly  in,  the  coasting 
trade  of  the  Gulf.  Many  of  the  square-rigged  vessels  in  the  upper 
part  are  coasters,  trading  between  the  Mississippi  and  the  northern 
ports,  their  voyage  partaking  more  of  the  character  of  the  "  long 
voyage"  than  the  coasting  one,  and  their  size  and  style  of  building 
corresponding  with  those  of  the  finest  vessels  afloat  for  any  purpose. 
Mid-stream  is  crowded  as  well  as  the  quays,  some  vessels  dropping 
down  with  the  current,  and  others  being  tugged  up  against  it — some 
steamers  arriving  from  above  and  some  from  below,  and  others  de- 
parting upwards  and  downwards — ferry-boats  crossing  and  re-crossing 
at  short  intervals — small  boats  shooting  in  different  directions;  and 
barges,  some  full,  some  empty,  floating  lazily  on  the  current.  On  a 
fine  morning,  with  the  sun  shining  brightly  on  town  and  river,  the 
scene  is  one  of  the  most  lively  description. 

But  the  bustle  and  activity  which  characterise  it  are  not  confined 


80  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

to  the  stream  alone.  The  Levee  is,  if  possible,  more  lively  than  the 
river.  In  front  of  the  city,  along  its  whole  line,  from  the  upper  to 
the  lower  harbour,  all  seem  busy  and  in  motion.  The  quays  are 
piled  from  one  end  to  the  other  with  goods  and  produce.  Here  you 
have  pyramids  of  cotton  bales,  some  ready  pressed  for  shipping, 
others  newly  landed  from  above,  and  awaiting  the  process  of  pres- 
sure. There  you  have  rows  of  sugar  hogsheads,  filled  with  the  pro- 
duce of  Louisiana.  There,  again,  you  have  bags  of  rice  piled  in 
huge  heaps  together,  and  barrels  of  pork  without  number,  which 
have  been  transmitted  from  the  far  north-west.  On  this  side  you 
have  flour  ready  for  exportation  to  South  America,  and  coffee  just 
imported  from  Rio.  Here  are  a  variety  of  the  products  of  the 
country  designed  for  the  European  markets,  and  bales  of  manufac- 
tured goods  just  received  from  foreign  ports,  and  now  ready  for  dis- 
tribution through  the  great  valley.  Look  which  way  you  will  along 
this  noble  promenade,  and  the  eye  is  met  by  articles  of  commerce, 
either  imported  or  ready  for  export,  indicating  by  their  variety  the 
many  markets  with  which  New  Orleans  is  connected,  and  the  extent 
of  the  business  which  it  transacts.  The  busy  throng  of  people  well 
accords  with  the  vast  accumulation  of  merchandise.  There  they 
are,  from  morning  till  night,  all  active,  bustling,  and  anxious;  mer- 
chants, clerks,  ship  captains,  supercargoes,  custom-house  officers, 
sailors,  boatmen,  porters  and  draymen.  The  last-mentioned  are 
busy  with  their  carts,  removing  from  point  to  point  the  different 
articles  on  the  quays,  the  piles  of  which  are  being  constantly  in- 
creased or  diminished  in  size.  Great  is  the  number  of  these  carts, 
and  rapidly  do  they  proceed,  as  if  they  had  all  been  loitering  and 
were  now  making  up  for  lost  time.  Their  constant  succession  in 
every  direction,  and  the  rattling  noise  which  they  occasion,  the  per- 
petual movement,  from  and  to  every  quarter,  of  human  beings,  and 
the  incessant  hum  of  human  voices,  the  ringing  of  steamboat  bells, 
and  the  hissing  of  steam,  pipes,  the  song  of  the  sailor,  and  the  clank 
of  the  busy  crane,  all  combine  to  render  the  whole  scene,  taking 
river  and  shore  together,  one  of  intense  interest  and  indescribable 
animation. 

So  far,  however,  New  Orleans  presents  to  the  stranger  features 
which  are,  more  or  less,  common  to  all  the  great  seaports  of  the 
country.  It  is  only  when  he  enters  the  town  that  he  perceives  the 
many  points  in  which  it  differs  from  all  the  rest.  There  are  in  it  a 
mixttire  of  the  new  and  the  old,  and  a  variety  of  speech,  manners, 
and  costume,  which  forcibly  strike  him  ere  he  penetrates  to  any 
great  distance  into  the  streets.  The  length  of  the  city  is  parallel  to 
the  river — its  width,  which  averages  about  a  mile,  being  in  the  direc- 
tion back  from  the  stream.  The  city  proper,  or  the  old  portion  of 
New  Orleans,  occupies  the  centre  of  its  position  upon  the  river,  and 
extends  back  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  upon  the  swamps  behind 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  81 

it.  Here  the  streets  are  both  narrow  and  dirty,  but  straight  and 
otherwise  regularly  planned.  The  houses  on  either  side  combine  to 
some  extent  the  more  prominent  features  of  modern  French  and 
Spanish  architecture,  and  are  almost  all  covered  with  stucco,  and 
painted  of  some  lively  colour,  generally  white,  yellow,  or  ochre.  This 
quarter,  which  is  now  a  municipality,  with  a  council  of  its  own  (the 
portions  of  the  city  on  either  .side  of  it  being  also  separate  munici- 
palities, having  also  their  respective  councils),  is  chiefly  peopled  by 
the  descendants  of  the  original  French  and  Spanish  colonists,  who 
occupied  it  before  the  cession  of  Louisiana  to  America.  With  very 
few  exceptions,  the  names  of  all  the  streets  are  French,  the  two 
principal  thoroughfares  being  the  Rue  Royale  and  the  Rue  de 
Chartres.  As  you  walk  the  streets,  the  Anglo-American  counte- 
nance is  the  exception  in  the  stream  of  faces  which  you  meet,  whilst 
French  is  the  language  chiefly  spoken  around  you.  Indeed,  every- 
thing in  this  quarter  remains  but  little  changed  since  the  cession, 
New  Orleans  strongly  reminding  one,  in  its  mixed  population,  and 
its  diversity  of  dialect,  manners  and  architecture,  of  the  Anglo- 
French  cities  of  Montreal  and  Quebec.  Strange  indeed  has  been 
the  destiny  of  France  on  the  American  continent.  From  the  mouth 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Great  Lakes,  from  them  again  to  the 
mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  we  find  memorials  of  her  power  and  traces 
of  her  recent  dominion.  From  point  to  point  stretched  regions  of 
immense  extent  and  boundless  fertility,  hemming  in  the  British 
colonies  between  them  and  the  Atlantic.  Along  the  whole  of  this 
vast  and  concave  boundary  of"  New  France"  the  French  had  their 
forts  and  strong  places,  and  their  busy  trading  communities.  They 
commanded  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Lakes,  the  Ohio,  the  Missouri, 
and  the  Mississippi,  and  sometimes  threatened  to  crush  the  English 
colonists  into  the  sea.  But  where  now  is  New  France  1  Over 
what  portion  of  the  North  American  territory  does  the  French  flag 
now  wave?  The  first  serious  blow  to  this  magnificent  colonial  do- 
minion was  the  conquest  of  Canada,  confining  New  France  to  the 
undefined  province  of  Louisiana,  west  of  the  Mississippi.  This  she 
retained  till  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  when  she  ceded 
to  the  United  States,  for  a  pecuniary  consideration,  a  territory  not 
only  large  enough  to  enable  empires  to  be  carved  out  of  it,  but  pos- 
sessing, at  some  points,  commercial  and  political  advantages  of  a 
most  important  nature.  She  then  finally  retreated  from  the  conti- 
nent, since  which  time  her  colonial  possessions  in  this  quarter  have 
been  confined  to  a  few  islands  in  the  West  India  seas.  But  at 
Quebec,  Montreal,  St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans,  in  Canada,  Mis- 
souri and  Louisiana,  she  has  left  behind  her  traces  which  still  sur- 
vive of  her  former  sway.  But  they  are  being  fast  obliterated,  parti- 
cularly within  the  limits  of  the  Union,  where  everything  that  is 


82  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

French,  as  well  as  everything  that  is  Spanish,  is  being  rapidly  sub- 
merged by  the  great  Anglo-Saxon  inundation. 

No  one  can  enter  Edinburgh  for  the  first  time  without  being  at 
once  struck  by  the  decided  contrast  presented  between  the  old  town 
and  the  new.  Standing  on  opposite  ridges,  in  close  and  full  view  of 
each  other,  how  different  are  the  epochs  which  they  indicate  in  the 
progress  of  humanity!  The  one  is  hoary  with  age,  the  other  light- 
some from  youth — the  one  antique  in  its  form  and  fashion,  the  other 
modern  in  its  garb  and  aspect.  Standing  side  by  side,  they  make 
the  middle  age  and  the  nineteenth  century  as  it  were  to  confront 
each  other  ;  the  narrow  valley  between  them  being  all  that  separates 
the  thing  of  yesterday  from  the  creation  of  a  bygone  time.  A  con- 
trast resembling  this,  but  neither  so  striking  nor  complete,  the  tourist 
may  witness  in  New  Orleans.  This  contrast  is  between  the  old  town 
and  the  American  quarter.  The  dividing  line  between  them  is 
Canal-street,  a  broad  and  spacious  thoroughfare,  lined  throughout 
with  trees,  dividing  the  two  quarters  from  each  other,  as  Tottenham- 
court-road  separates  the  east  from  the  west  in  London.  On  one  side 
of  this  line  the  aspect  of  the  town  is  totally  different  from  its  aspect 
on  the  other.  It  is  true  that  Canal-street  does  not  bring,  on  either 
side  of  it,  such  distant  things  near,  as  does  the  valley  between  the 
old  town  and  the  new  in  Edinburgh;  for  the  old  town  of  Edinburgh 
was  old  ere  any  part  of  New  Orleans  was  yet  new.  But  still  the 
contrast  is  very  great,  as  not  only  exhibiting  a  marked  difference  in 
architecture,  but  also  a  difference  of  race.  You  not  only,  in  crossing 
Canal-street,  seem  to  bound  from  one  century  into  another,  but  you 
might  also  fancy  that  you  jiad  crossed  the  boundary  line  between  two 
conterminous  nations.  On  the  American  side  the  streets  are  wider, 
better  paved,  better  lighted,  and  better  cleaned ;  the  architecture  is 
of  the  most  modern  style;  the  shops  are  large,  showy,  and  elegant ; 
the  names  over  the  doors  and  the  names  of  the  streets  are  familiar 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon;  the  English  language  is  generally  spoken,  the 
French  being  the  exception  ;  and  the  costume  of  the  residents  bears 
a  close  resemblance  to  that  of  all  American  southern  towns.  From 
what  has  already  been  said  of  the  old  town,  the  reader  may  easily 
infer  how  much  it  contrasts,  in  everything,  with  the  new. 

New  Orleans  does  not  present  much  that  is  striking  in  the  way  of 
public  buildings.  Being  the  capital  of  the  State,*  all  the  public 
officers  are  of  course  here  ;  but  they  are  almost  all  accommodated, 
as  are  the  two  branches  of  the  legislature,  in  a  large  building,  neither 
elegant  nor  imposing,  which  was  once  a  charity  hospital.  It  has  for 
some  time  been  intended  to  errect  a  capitol  more  in  keeping  with 
the  importance  of  the  city  and  the  dignity  of  the  State  ;  but  as  yet 
that  intention  has,  in  being  postponed,  but  shared  the  fate  of  the 

*  The  scat  of  government  has  since  been  removed. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  83 

great  bulk  of  commendable  resolutions.  Some  of  the  municipal 
buildings,  though  not  very  extensive,  are  not  without  merit,  and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  a  few  of  those  dedicated  to  commerce  and  its 
exigencies.  Decidedly  one  of  the  finest  structures  in  New  Orleans 
is  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  situated  in  the  American  quarter,  and  sur- 
passing in  extent  and  good  management,  though  not  in  exterior 
elegance,  the  famous  Astor  House  in  New  York.  It  was  erected  by 
a  company  incorporated  for  the  purpose,  and  is  conducted  on  a  scale 
of  magnificence  unequalled  even  in  America,  where  the  hotel  sys- 
tem is  carried  to  such  an  extent.  It  may  consequently  be  said  to  be 
without  its  equal  anywhere  else.  With  us  hotels  are  regarded  as 
purely  private  property,  and  it  is  seldom  that,  in  their  appearance, 
they  stand  out  from  the  mass  of  private  houses  around  them.  In 
America  they  are  looked  upon  much  more  in  the  light  of  public 
concerns,  and  generally  assume  in  their  exterior  the  character  of 
public  buildings.  Thus  it  is  with  the  St.  Charles,  with  its  large  and 
elegant  Corinthian  portico,  and  the  lofty  swelling  dome  which  sur- 
mounts it.  There  are  many  other  hotels  in  the  city  with  "  marble 
halls,"  and  conducted  on  an  extensive  scale ;  but  the  St.  Charles  is, 
in  true  Yankee  phrase,  the  "  cap  sheaf"  of  the  whole. 

It  may  seem  to  be  a  contradiction  in  terms,  but  in  New  Orleans 
the  cellars  are  all  above-ground.  In  other  words,  the  basement  story 
of  the.  houses  is  elevated  several  feet  above  the  surface,  a  flight  of 
steps  generally  leading  to  the  hall-door.  This  contrivance  is 
evidently  the  result  of  necessity,  for  if  they  dug  into  the  swampy 
ground,  they  would  have  wells  and  water-pools  instead  of  cellars. 

There  are  some  very  elegant  and  attractive  looking  residences  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  town.  They  are  surrounded,  for  the 
most  part,  by  gardens,  rich  with  the  perfume  of  the  magnolia,  and 
shaded  with  orange  groves  and  a  great  variety  of  other  trees.  These 
houses  are  generally  inhabited  by  the  permanent  residents  of  the 
place,  either  those  who  have  been  born  in  Louisiana  or  immigrants 
into  the  State,  who  have  been  long  enough  within  the  sedgy  limits  of 
the  Delta  to  be  thoroughly  acclimated.  They  are  almost  all  wealthy 
and  for  the  most  part  take  a  run  with  their  families  more  or  less  to 
the  north,  net  so  much  to  avoid  the  sickly  season  as  in  pursuit  of 
pleasure. 

Immediately  behind  the  city  the  swamp  extends,  in  one  dismal, 
unvarying  level,  to  Lake  Ponchartrain.  Everything  attractive  about 
New  Orleans  is,  therefore,  confined  to  itself.  In  its  vicinity  there 
are  no  "pretty  spots"  to  ternpt  to  a  day's  excursion.  Seek  its  en- 
virons on  either  side,  and  you  find  yourself  still  in  the  swamp,  still 
treading  a  spongy  tremulous  soil,  still  ^amongst  cane  brakes  and 
thick  tangled  woods,  from  which,  if  you  enter  them  for  shelter  from 
the  blazing  sun,  you  are  unceremoniously  driven  by  legions  of 
musquitos.  It  is  easy  to  trace,  at  the  back  of  the  town,  the  lines 


84  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

which  new  streets  are  intended  to  pursue ;  the  rubbish,  which  is 
elsewhere  collected,  being  shot  in  straight  lines,  of  a  regular  width, 
into  the  swamp,  to  secure,  by-and-by,  as  good  a  foundation  as 
possible ;  these  lines,  as  they  radiate  in  different  directions,  remind- 
ing one  of  the  incipient  embankments  of  a  railway. 

One  of  the  most  remarkable  objects  in  the  tout  ensemble  of  New 
Orleans  is  the  Levee — which  is  an  embankment  extending,  on  both 
sides  of  the  river,  for  about  a  hundred  miles  above  and  about  fifty 
below  the  city.  Its  design  is  to  confine  the  Mississippi  to  its  chan- 
nel, that  stream  having,  when  in  flood,  rather  a  wayward  turn  about 
it,  frequently  overflowing  its  banks  and  inundating  whole  counties, 
and  sometimes,  tired  of  its  former  courses,  cutting  new  channels  for 
itself,  for  which  it  occasionally  entirely  forsakes  the  old  ones.  This 
it  is  enabled  to  do  from  the  soft  and  free  character  of  the  alluvial 
soil  through  which  it  flows,  when  the  current  is  not  sufficiently  rapid 
and  unimpeded  to  carry  off  its  accumulated  waters.  It  has  more 
than  once  happened,  that  a  planter  has  thus  been  transferred  over- 
night, with  his  family  and  property,  from  the  left  to  the  right  bank  of 
the  river,  or  vice  versa ;  lying  down  at  night,  say  in  Mississippi,  and 
awaking  to  find  himself,  in  the  morning,  in  Arkansas.  Some  might 
think  the  change  not  undesirable.  On  other  occasions  he  has  not  been 
so  lucky,  the  new  channel  not  being  sufficiently  large  to  drain  the 
old,  when  he  has  found  himself  suddenly  isolated,  and  cut  off  from 
all  communication  with  the  world  ;  an  awkward  position,  particularly 
if  he  had  not  formerly  been  addicted  to  boat-building.  The  new 
channels  are  generally  deserted  when  the  waters  subside  to  their 
usual  level,  but  they  are  sometimes  permanently  retained. 

In  passing  through  the  Delta, — an  enormous  triangular  formation, 
with  an  area  of  upward  of  15,000  square  miles,  and  which  is  the 
result  of  the  combined  action  of  the  river  and  its  tributaries,  which 
are  constantly  carrying  down  from  the  vast  alluvial  regions,  through 
\Yhich  they  flow,  material  which  they  deposit  for  the  formation  of 
new  territories  on  the, Gulf, — irruptions  by  the  river  into  the  circum- 
jacent country  are  prevented  by  its  being  confined  to  its  channel  by 
the  Levee.  It  is  all  the  more  necessary  thus  to  confine  it,  as  in  its 
course  through  the  Delta  the  bed  of  the  river  is  being  gradually 
raised  above  the  level  of  the  country  on  either  side.  It  has  more 
than  once  broken  through  this  embankment,  submerging  and  devas- 
tating large  sections  of  the  country  ;  the  volume  of  water  in  the 
channel  being  so  great,  that  the  Levee,  though  strong  and  compact, 
could  not,  at  the  points  to  which  it  gave  away,  resist  the  pressure. 

The  process  by  which  the  bed  of  the  river  is  being  thus  gradually 
elevated  is  a  very  obvious  one.  The  fine  silt,  which,  from  the 
junction  of  the  Missouri  with  it,  so  largely  impregnates  its  waters, 
and  gives  to  it  the  turgid,  muddy  appearance  which  it  presents,  is 
being  gradually  deposited  at  the  bottom.  This  process,  however, 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  85 

would  but  very  slowly  elevate  the  channel,  were  it  not  for  the  annual 
aid  which  it  receives  from  the  floods  of  the  river;  for  the  material 
brought  down  by  the  stream,  when  at  its  ordinary  level,  is  almost  all 
by  degrees  forced  by  the  current  to  its  mouths,  where  it  is  finally 
applied  to  the  extension  of  the  Delta.  But  when  the  river  is  in  flood, 
it  is  more  than  usually  turgid,  carrying  with  it  an  extra  quantity  of 
material,  a  portion  of  which  it  leaves  on  the  open  country  which  it 
invades,  but  the  greater  part  of  which  is  deposited  upon  and  between 
its  banks.  When  the  river  returns  to  its  ordinary  size,  a  portion  of 
the  extra  quantity  of  soil  thus  deposited  is  carried  down  by  it  to  the 
Gulf,  but  a  portion  of  it  still  remains,  when  the  floods  again  appear 
to  leave  new  deposits  behind  them.  Thus  both  the  banks  and  the 
channel  are  being  gradually  raised  above  the  surrounding  level. 

It  follows,  of  course,  that  everything  which  tends  to  confine  the 
river  to  its  own  bed,  aids  the  process  by  which  the  channel  is  raised, 
inasmuch  as  the  material  is  thus  deposited  in  the  channel  which, 
otherwise,  would  be  left  upon  the  surrounding  surface  inundated  by 
the  stream.  Thus  the  process  by  which  it  periodically  elevates  its 
banks,  contributes  greatly  to  the  elevation  of  the  bottom  of  the  chan- 
nel. And  this  suggests  a  very  serious  reflection  in  connexion  with 
the  Levee;  for  this  result  of  the  elevation  of  the  river's  banks  will 
take  place,  whether  they  are  naturally  or  artificially  raised.  Except 
when  their  pressure  is  sufficiently  great  to  break  through  it,  the  floods 
for  about  100  miles  above  and  fifty  below  New  Orleans  are  confined 
to  the  bed  of  the  river,  by  which  the  process  of  elevating  it  is  quick- 
ened, and  more  particularly  as  in  its  approach  to  the  Gulf  the  strength 
of  the  current  sensibly  diminishes.  It  would  seem,  then,  that  that 
to  which  the  city  now  looks  for  its  protection  is  only  a  means  of 
aggravating  the  evil.  The  Levee  is  now  kept  in  repair  by  dues  which 
are  exclusively  appropriated  to  it ;  but  it  must  not  only  be  kept  in 
repair,  but  gradually  elevated,  as  the  bed  of  the  river  rises.  The 
level  of  the  city  is  already  several  feet  below  the  surface  of  the  river 
at  high  water,  so  that  every  year  would  seem  to  increase  the 
disadvantages  of  its  position.  Already  it  is  difficult,  if  not  impos- 
sible, to  drain  the  town  into  the  river;  but  the  time  will  yet 
come  when  it  will  be  clearly  impossible  to  do  so.  Its  only  resource 
then  will  be  to  be  drained  into  Lake  Ponchartrain.  But  New  Or- 
leans runs  another  very  serious  risk  from  this  constant  elevation  of 
the  channel  of  the  river,  and  that  is,  that,  some  day  or  other,  the 
Mississippi  will  desert  it  altogether.  The  higher  the  channel  rises, 
the  more  will  the  current  diminish  in  strength,  and  the  more,  conse- 
quently, in  flood-time,  will  the  waters  accumulate  above.  So  much 
will  this  yet  be  the  case,  that  the  want  of  sufficient  current  in  the 
lower  part  of  the  river  to  drain  the  channel  above  will  virtually 
operate  as  an  impediment  to  the  stream,  which  will  then  accumulate 
to  such  a  degree  at  some  point  above  the  Levee  as  to  enable  it  to 

VOL,  II.— 8 


86  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

break  through  all  obstacles,  and  seek  an  entirely  new  channel  to  the 
Gulf.  It  is,  therefore,  not  improbable  that  the  present  course  of  the 
stream  may  yet  be  traced  by  a  long  and  devious  ridge  running  across 
the  Delta,  whilst  the  Mississippi  is  finding  a  readier  outlet  through 
Lake  Ponchartrain  to  the  Gulf. 

There  are  few  towns  on  the  surface  of  the  globe  possessing  such 
a  medley  of  population  as  New  Orleans.  There  are  five  distinct 
bases  to  the  mixed  race  that  inhabits  it — the  Anglo-American,  the 
French,  the  Spanish,  the  African,  and  the  Indian.  Not  only  is  each 
of  these  to  be  found  in  it  unmixed  with  any  other,  but  they  are  all 
commingled,  the  one  with  the  other,  in  a  -variety  of  ways  and  in 
interminable  degrees.  The  bulk  of  the  population,  however,  at 
present  consists  of  Anglo-Americans  and  French  Creoles;  the  former 
having  no  blood  in  their  veins  but  that  of  the  Saxon,  and  the  latter 
having  in  it  a  small  admixture  of  the  American  and  the  Spanish, 
but  none  other.  But  the  majority  of  the  Creole  population  are  of 
pure  French  extraction,  natives  of  Louisiana ;  a  small  proportion  of 
them  having  in  their  veins  the  yet  unadulterated  blood  of  Castile, 
and  still  speaking  the  Spanish  language ;  and  the  remainder,  also  a 
small  proportion,  being,  as  already  said,  a  mixture  of  the  French  and 
Spanish  blood.  The  African  race  does  not  preponderate  in  point  of 
numbers  in  New  Orleans,  but  it  constitutes  not  far  from  fifty  per 
cent,  of  the  entire  population.  Of  these  not  more  than  one-sixth 
are  free  blacks,  no  less  than  two-fifths  of  the  whole  population  of 
New  Orleans  being  still  held  in  bondage.  The  pure  Indians  are  exceed- 
ingly few  in  number,  as  happily  is  also  the  mixed  breed  between  the 
Indian  and  the  negro,  which  forms  so  large  and  so  degraded  a  pro- 
portion of  the  population  of  the  Mexican  confederacy.  The  mulatto, 
and  the  many  shades  which  succeed,  and  also  the  mixed  white  and 
Indian  race,  are  much  more  common,  the  latter  being  in  smaller 
proportion,  however,  than  the  former.  The  race  partly  partaking 
of  the  blood  of  the  aboriginees  is  not  a  despised  one  in  America  ; 
whilst  that  inheriting,  in  the  smallest  appreciable  degree,  the  blood 
of  the  African,  is  put  universally  under  the  ban  of  society.  Un- 
fortunately, even  when  colour  ceases  to  designate  the  inheritor  of 
negro  blood,  it  leaves  upon  the  features  apparently  ineradicable  traces 
to  betray  it.  Their  antipathy  is  kept  alive  by  the  whites  long  after 
everything  that  may  be  considered  repulsive  in  the  negro  has  disap- 
peared by  successive  infusions  of  white  blood  into  his  veins. 
Lovelier  women  than  the  quadroons,  those  removed  in  the  fourth 
degree  from  the  negro,  are  nowhere  to  be  found.  The  exaggerations 
of  the  negro  form  are  softened  down  [in  them  into  those  graceful 
curves  which  give  roundness  and  elegance  to  the  shape ;  the  woolly 
and  crispy  hair  is  superseded  by  a  luxuriant  growth  of  long,  straight, 
and  silken  tresses ;  the  eye  is  black,  large,  round,  liquid,  and  lan- 
guishing, whilst  the  huge  flat  features  of  the  negro  are  modified  into 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  87 

a  contour  embodying  rather  a  voluptuous  expression.  The  com- 
plexion is  beautiful  and  well  befitting  the  sunny  south,  a  slight  shade 
underlying  the  transparent  skin,  whilst  on  the  cheek  a  bright 
carnation  intervenes  between  the  two.  Despite  all  their  charms, 
however,  they  are  a  proscribed  race,  living  only  to  minister  to  the 
sensualities  of  those  who  will  not  elevate  them  to  an  equality  with 
themselves.  It  is  astonishing  to  witness  the  degree  to  which  they 
are  seemingly  reconciled  to  their  fate.  From  their  infancy  they 
learn  that  there  is  but  one  course  of  life  before  them,  and  as  they 
reach  maturer  years  they  glide  into  it  without^either  struggle  or  re- 
luctance. 

The  inhabitants  of  New  Orleans  may  be  again  divided  into  its 
resident  and  its  peripatetic  population.  The  former  include  the 
Creoles — few  of  whom,  being  natives  of  the  town,  ever  leave  it; 
and  the  negroes,  and  the  mixed  races,  who  have  no  option  but  to 
remain.  The  latter,  the  transitory  population,  are  chiefly  composed 
of  the  Anglo-Americans  ;  a  small  proportion  of  whom  are  natives  of 
the  city,  and  the  bulk  of  them  abandoning  it  on  the  approach  of  the 
sickly  season.  A  little  more  than  one-fifth  of  the  whole  population 
thus  annually  migrate  from  the  town,  the  runaways  returning  as  soon 
as  the  dangerous  period  for  such  as  are  unacclimated  is  past.  From 
the  beginning  of  July,  until  the  winter  begins  to  make  its  appearance 
in  October,  the  stranger  who  does  not  quit  New  Orleans  must  be 
very  cautious  how  he  acts  during  the  first,  second,  and  even  third 
season  of  his  acclimation.  The  process  is  one  which  proves  fatal 
to  many ;  notwithstanding  all  their  care,  fevers  of  a  severe  billions 
type  carrying  hundreds  off,  even  when  the  great  scourge,  the  yellow 
fever,  is  not  at  work.  There  is,  however,  a  very  exaggerated 
notion  abroad  of  the  unhealthiness  of  New  Orleans.  It  will  have 
been  seen  that  the  annual  migration  to  escape  disease  is  a  feature  as 
common  to  social  life  throughout  the  whole  sea-coast  region, 
extending  from  the  Potomac  to  Florida,  as  it  is  to  that  of  New 
Orleans.  It  is  true,  that  in  the  case  of  New  Orleans  is  to  be 
superadded  the  almost  annual  visitation  of  the  dreadful  epidemic 
which  sometimes  creates  such  havoc  in  the  midst  of  it ;  but  even 
this  sometimes  creeps  far  up  along  the  coast,  proving  itself  as  fatal 
elsewhere  as  in  New  Orleans.  Whilst  the  yellow  fever  has  been  in 
New  York  and  Philadelphia,  there  have  been  of  late,  seasons  during 
which  it  has  not  made  its  appearance  in  New  Orleans.  Much  is 
annually  being  done  in  the  way  of  cleaning,  draining,  and  ventilating 
the  town,  for  the  purpose  of  entirely  averting  it,  or  of  modifying  its 
virulence  when  it  visits  it.  The  good  effects  of  this  have  already 
made  themselves  manifest,  and  the  inhabitants  are  not  without  hope 
that  the  time  is  not  far  distant  when  its  visitations  will,  instead  of 
being  regular,  be  few  and  far  between.  They  will  then  only  have 


88  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

to  cope  with  the  ordinary  autumn  fevers,  which  are  as  common  to 
the  whole  sea-coast  region  as  they  are  to  the  delta  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  process  of  acclimation  is  undoubtedly  a  perilous  one,  but  so 
it  would  be  on  the  lower  parts  of  the  James  River.  There,  however, 
parties  are  not  compelled  to  undergo  it ;  but  in  New  Orleans  the 
necessities  of  business,  and  the  temptations  which  exist  to  induce 
people  to  run  the  risk,  make  many  encounter  the  process,  great 
numbers  passing  successfully  through  it.  Once  acclimated,  no 
persons  enjoy  better  health  than  the  resident  population  of  New 
Orleans;  whilst  the  native  of  the. city,  particularly  of  the  Anglo- 
American  race,  are  as  tall,  strong,  and  healthy  a  set  of  men  as  can 
be  found  in  any  part  of  the  Union.  Much  of  the  unhealthiness, 
which  would  otherwise  be  incident  to  the  city  and  the  district  in  the 
midst  of  which  it  stands,  is  counteracted  by  the  keen  winds  which  now 
and  then  sweep  down  the  valley  from  the  north,  not  only  purifying 
the  atmosphere  in  the  neigbourhood  of  New  Orleans,  but  making 
themselves  felt  along  the  whole  coast  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  being 
as  well  known  in  Vera  Cruz  as  in  the  capital  of  Louisiana. 

The  people  of  New  Orleans  are  a  very  pleasure-loving  people. 
Americans  and  French,  negroes,  mulattoes,  or  quadroons,  as  soon  as 
the  business  of  the  day  is  over,  give  themselves  up,  more  or  less,  to 
every  species  of  gaiety  and  dissipation.  The  Creole  population 
being  almost  entirely  catholic,  much  of  the  manners  of  continental 
Europe  is  visible  in  New  Orleans.  These  were  established  before 
the  cession,  and  the  soberer  character  and  severer  tenets  of  the 
American  protestant  population  have  not  yet  been  able  to  make  much 
headway  against  them  ;  and  it  will  be  long  ere  the  strict  moral 
discipline  of  the  northern  towns  is  introduced  to  any  extent  into 
New  Orleans.  A  change  may  be  effected  when  the  resident 
protestant  population  becomes  more  numerous,  but  not  before  ;  for 
the  peripatetic  protestants,  who  form  so  large  a  proportion  of  the 
American  population,  regard  their  sojourn  in  New  Orleans  in  the 
light  of  a  somewhat  protracted  visit,  and  make  up  their  minds,  as 
most  visitors  do  everywhere,  to  enjoy  themselves.  The  consequence 
is,  that  the  gaiety  and  dissipation  of  the  place  are  kept  up  by  the 
Creoles  and  the  floating  American  population,  who  by  their 
combined  numbers  and  influence  completely  overbear  the  resident 
section  of  the  latter,  who,  although  mingling  freely  in  the  more 
innocent  amusements,  having  local  reputations  to  sustain,  keep  aloof 
from  the  scenes  of  more  questionable  gaiety  with  which  the  town 
abounds.  There  are  three  theatres,  one  French  and  two  English, 
which  are  seldom  shut,  and  are  generally  well  attended  ;  and  during 
the  winter  season  particularly,  scarcely  a  night  passes  over  New 
Orleans  without  its  public  balls  and  masquerades.  Some  of  them, 
particularly  in  the  French  quarter,  are  the  mere  nuclei  for  every 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  89 

species  of  demoralization.  They  are  frequently  the  occasion  of 
brawls,  and  sometimes  the  witnesses  of  fatal  collisions  ;  many  of  the 
men  attending  them  being  armed,  the  handle  of  the  "  Bowie  knife,'3 
or  the  "  Arkansas  toothpick,"  a  still  more  terrible  weapon,  being  not 
unfrequently  visible,  protruding  from  a  pocket  made  for  it  inside 
of  the  waistcoat.  The  greatest  attendance  at  these  scenes,  and 
indeed  at  the  theatres,  is  on  Sunday. 

But  it  is  now  time  to  advert  to  New  Orleans  in  connexion  with  its 
commercial  position,  and  the  political  influence  incident  to  that 
position. 

If  we  consider  for  a  moment  the  different  circumstances  which 
at  any  particular  point,  call  for  the  existence  of  a  large  entrepot  of 
trade,  we  must  perceive,  on  looking  at  the  situation  of  New  Orleans, 
that  whilst  some  of  these  circumstances  already  exist  in  its  vicinity, 
they  are  yet  all  destined  to  develope  themselves  around  it  to  an 
extent  unparalleled  in  any  other  quarter  of  the  world.  Wherever 
we  find  a  large  community  with  diversified  wants  to  be  supplied  from 
abroad,  inhabiting  a  vast  fertile  region,  producing  in  superfluous 
abundance  t^he  articles  which  will  be  received  by  the  foreigner  in 
exchange,  that  community  must  have  some  great  entrepot,  either  on 
or  near  the  ocean,  to  serve  as  the  medium  or  pivot  of  its  export  and 
import  trade.  Behind  New  Orleans  both  these  conditions  exist  in 
pre-eminent  degree ;  and  the  city  itself  is  the  result.  The  Mis- 
sissippi valley  is  a  region  almost  illimitable  in  its  extent  and 
inexhaustible  in  its  fertility,  lying  between  the  parallel  ridges  of  the 
Alleghany  and  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  extending  in  a  northerly 
and  southerly  direction  from  the  29th  to  the  47th  parallel  of  latitude. 
This  enormous  region,  for  nearly  two-thirds  of  its  whole  extent, 
possesses  a  soil  fertile  to  a  degree,  and  yields  in  abundance  every 
variety  of  crop  and  fruit  produced  in  the  temperate  zone,  with  many 
of  the  productions  more  common  to  the  tropical  regions  of  the 
globe.  Its  western  portion,  that  lying  between  a  line  drawn  parallel 
to  the  Mississippi,  about  400  miles  to  the  west  of  it,  and  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  is  sandy,  rocky,  and  sterile ;  the  rest,  stretching  across 
the  Mississippi  and  eastward  to  the  Alleghany  chain,  being 
unequalled  in  fertility  by  any  other  portion  of  the  earth's  surface- 
This  great  valley,  in  its  cultivable  area,  is  about  ten  times  the  size 
of  Great  Britain,  and  it  now  comprises  within  its  limits  eleven, 
of  the  States  of  the  Union.  There  is  nowhere  else  so  enormous 
a  surface  cast  as  it  were  in  one  mould,  and  forming  one  great  system. 
From  the  Alleghanies  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  from  the  Lakes 
to  the  Gulf,  it  spreads  out  in  one  huge  undivided  basin,  irrigated  by 
one  mighty  system  of  rivers,  and  possessing  but  one  natural  outlet 
to  the  ocean.  At  this  outlet  stands  New  Orleans,  which  has  thus  a 
position  in  point  of  commercial  importance  unparalleled  by  that  of 
any  other  seaport  in  the  world. 

8* 


90  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

It  is  more  in  connexion  with  its  future  prospects  than  its  present 
condition  that  we  are  to  appreciate  the  importance  of  the  position  of 
New  Orleans.  It  is  impossible,  when  one  reflects  for  a  moment 
upon  the  coming  destiny  of  the  great  region  which  lies  beyond  it, 
to  set  anything  like  reasonable  bounds  to  its  future  extent,  wealth, 
and  greatness.  There  can  scarcely  be  a  doubt  but  that  it  will,  at  no 
very  distant  period,  be  the  greatest  commercial  emporium  in  the 
world.  At  present  it  is,  more  or  less,  the  entrepot  for  the  trade  of 
upwards  of  nine  millions  of  people,  the  population  of  the  great 
valley  at  present  exceeding  that  number.  In  1810  it  did  not 
possess  half  a  million  of  inhabitants.  In  1840  its  population  as 
compared  with  1810  was  multiplied  by  eighteen  times.  What  will 
it  be  in  1870  ?  On  the  lowest  computation  it  will  be  twenty-five 
millions;  but  even  this  will  only  be  a  commencement  in  the  work 
of  filling  it.  Without  having  to  sustain  as  many  to  the  square  mile 
as  England  now  sustains,  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  can  accom- 
modate and  subsist  15Q».milJions  of  people.  In  regarding  the  future 
of  New  Orleans  we  are  entitled  to  look  to  the  time  when  the  valley 
behind  it  will  teem  with  population.  The  inhabitants  of  the  valley 
are,  and  ever  will  be,  an  industrious  people.  Conceive  150  millions 
at  work  in  the  same  great  basin,  with  a  fertile  soil  on  all  hands  for 
them  to  cultivate !  They  will  necessarily  be  chiefly  agricultural,  for 
the  main  sources  of  the  wealth  of  the  valley  are  in  the  diversified 
capabilities  of  its  soil.  Throughout  the  whole  of  its  northern 
region  cereal  crops  are,  and  ever  will  be,  produced  in  the  greatest 
abundance ;  its  middle  section  will  yield  tobacco,  Indian  corn, 
hemp,  and  flax,  live  stock,  and  cotton ;  whilst  the  cotton-plant  and 
the  sugar  cane  will  form  the  staples  of  its  productions  in  the  south. 
When  it  is  all  under  cultivation,  who  can  estimate  the  wealth  which 
each  successive  year  will  draw  from  it]  There  will  be  annually  an 
enormous  surplus  for  exportation,  and  an  immense  yearly  void  to  be 
filled  by  imports.  It  is  true  that  much  of  its  surplus  productions 
will  find  outlets  to  fpreign  markets  in  the  Atlantic  seaports,  by 
means  of  the  great  lines  of  communication  already  adverted  to  as 
connecting  them  with  the  valley ;  but  if  New  Orleans  has  to  act  as 
the  entrepot  of  one-half,  or  even  one-third  of  its  entire  trade,  it 
would  still,  in  the  importance  of  its  position,  vastly  surpass  every 
other  mercantile  emporium  in  the  world,  for  it  would  in  that  case  be 
yet  called  upon  to  act  as  the  medium  through  which  would  be  tran- 
sacted the  export  and  import  trade  of  from  fifty  to  seventy-five 
millions  of  people. 

What  renders  the  situation  of  New  Orleans  still  more  imposing, 
is  the  magnificent  and  bounteous  manner  in  which  nature  has 
irrigated  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi.  It  is  not  only  of  exuberant 
fertility  almost  throughout  its  entire  length  and  breadth,  and  capable 
of  sustaining  an  industrious  population  amounting  to  three-fourths  of 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  91 

that  of  all  Europe ;  but  it  is  also  watered  by  a  system  of  streams  all 
navigable  in  their  channels,  and  the  commingled  waters  of  which 
pass  by  New  Orleans  in  their  common  course  to  the  ocean.  Nature 
has  thus,  without  putting  man,  in  this  favoured  region,  to  either 
trouble  or  expense  provided  him  on  all  hands  with  highways  to  the 
sea  with  the  like  of  which  no  trouble  and  expense,  on  his  part  could 
ever  have  provided  him.  The  Mississippi  itself  is,  as  it  were,  the 
great  spinal  cord  of  this  vast  system  of  irrigation.  Pursuing  its  long 
and  snake-like  course  along  the  lowest  level  of  the  valley,  it  receives, 
on  either  bank,  as  it  rolls  majestically  along,  tributaries  almost  as  ex- 
tensive and  as  lordly  as  itself.  Amongst  the  chief  are  the  Wabash,  the 
Missouri,  the  Ohio,  the  Tennessee,  the  Red  River,  the  Arkansas, 
and  the  White  River,  all  navigable  for  steamers  and  vessels  of  large 
draught,  for  hundreds  of  miles  from  their  confluence  with  their 
common  reservoir;  and  one  of  them,  the  Missouri,  for  thousands  of 
miles.  Ascending  the  Mississippi  from  New  Orleans  to  its  con- 
fluence with  the  Missouri,  and  then  ascending  the  Missouri  to  the 
extreme  point  of  its  navigation,  the  combined  navigable  channels  of 
the  two  streams  exceed  in  length  three  thousand  miles  !  Ascending 
the  Mississippi  and  Ohio  in  the  same  way,  their  combined  navigable 
channels  are  about  two  thousand  miles  in  length.  The  Red  River 
itself  is  navigable  for  thirteen  hundred  miles  above  its  junction  with 
the  Mississippi.  These  tributaries  again  have  their  tributaries,  some 
of  which  are  navigable  for  hundreds  of  miles;  and  these  again 
theirs,  navigable  for  shorter  distances.  Thus  the  system  goes  on, 
increasing  its  ramifications  as  it  penetrates  into  the  interior,  where 
its  remoter,  minor,  and  innumerable  branches  dwindle  into  the 
proportions  of  streams  navigable  only  to  the  barge  and  the  flat  boat. 
But  vessels  of  large  draught  navigate  the  Mississippi,  its  tributaries, 
their  tributaries,  and  the  chief  of  their  tributaries  again  ;  that  is  to 
say,  vessels  of  large  draught  can,  in  some  instances,  ascend  into 
tributaries  removed  in  the  fourth  degree  from  the  Mississippi !  This 
noble  system  of  rivers  permeates  the  richest  portions  of  the  valley  ; 
its  arid,  or  more  westerly  part,  being  but  indifferently  irrigated  by 
streams  which  are  generally  shallow,  and  whose  channels  are 
frequently  interrupted  by  rapids.  It  would  almost  seem  as  if  every 
farmer  or  planter  in  the  valley  had  his  own  land  skirted  by  a  navi- 
gable stream.  When  to  this  natural  is  added  the  artificial  irrigation, 
which  will  yet  connect  river  with  river  in  every  direction,  how  great 
will  be  the  facilities,  not  only  for  mutual  interchange,  but  for 
pouring,  with  a  view  to  exportation,  the  surplus  productions  of  the 
valley  upon  the  ocean  !  It  is  almost  impossible  to  set  limits  to  the 
extent  to  which  canals  will  yet  intersect  the  valley.  The  necessity 
for  them  will  be  obvious,  and  their  construction  easy ;  for  nature 
has  already,  as  it  were,  regulated  the  levels,  leaving  man  only  to  dig 
out  the  soil.  It  was,  no  doubt,  in  view  of  all  this,  as  forming  part 


92  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

and  parcel  of  the  future  destiny  of  this  great  region,  that  De 
TocquevilJe  designated  it  "  the  most  magnificent  habitation  that  God 
ever  designed  for  man." 

To  sum  up  the  favourable  points  connected  with  the  position  of 
New  Orleans,  it  may  here  be  added,  that  it  stands  at  the  outlet  of 
about  25,000  miles  of  inland  navigation  !  And  in  this  estimate 
those  streams  only  are  embraced  which  are  navigable  for  steamboats 
and  vessels  of  large  draught.  What  will  yet  be  the  amount  of 
produce  thrown  upon  it  through  such  means,  existing  in  such  a 
region,  or  the  amount  of  imports  which,  by  the  same  means,  it  will 
yet  have  to  distribute  through  it,  I  leave  the  reader,  if  he  can,  to 
appreciate.  I  have  said  enough  to  make  out  my  proposition,  that 
there  is  that  in  the  position  of  New  Orleans,  which  will  yet  render  it 
the  greatest  commercial  emporium,  not  only  in  America,  but  in  the 
world ;  for,  with  the  wide  ocean  before  it,  and  the  great  human  hive 
which  will  yet  resound  to  the  hum  of  universal  industry  behind, 
what  bounds  can  be  set  to  its  progress? 

The  political  importance  of  such  a  position  did  not  escape  the 
wary  and  far-seeing  government  at  Washington.  Previously  to  the 
cession  of  Louisiana,  the  Americans  were  confined  to  the  east  bank 
of  the  Mississippi,  and  that  only  for  a  part,  although  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  its  course:  its  lower  portion  flowing,  like  the  St.  Lawrence, 
exclusively  through  the  territory  of  a  foreign  power.  But  possessed 
as  they  were  of  by  far  the  better  bank  of  the  river,  which  was  being 
rapidly  colonized  not  only  from  Europe  but  also  from  the  seaboard 
States,  and  which,  at  an  early  time,  gave  evidence  of  what  its  future 
wants  would  be,  at  no  very  distant  period,  in  a  commercial  point  of 
view, — they  foresaw  that  without  a  free  access  at  all  times  to  the 
ocean,  the  enormous  section  of  their  territory  stretching  from  the 
Alleghanies  to  the  Mississippi,  would  be  in  the  position  of  Russia,  a 
country  of  immense  resources,  pent  up,  as  it  were,  within  itself,  and 
whose  only  outlets  to  the  markets  of  the  world  are  by  the  narrow 
straits  of  the  Sound  and  the  Bosphorus,  its  use  of  these  depending, 
to  a  great  extent,  upon  the  caprice  of  foreign  powers.  The  policy  of 
the  Union  was  evidently  to  secure  a  free  course  to  the  ocean  for  the 
commerce  of  the  valley.  To  leave  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi 
entirely  within  the  Control  of  another  power,  was  to  leave  in  its  hands 
a  most  profitable  possession  in  time  of  peace,  and  one  which  would 
exercise  a  most  inconvenient  influence  in  time  of  war.  The  Union, 
therefore,  had  two  courses  before  it;  either  to  secure  the  left  bank 
of  the  river,  the  whole  way  to  the  gulf,  by  virtue  of  which  its  naviga- 
tion would  be  common  to  it  and  the  colonies  of  France  on  the  other 
bank  ;  or,  ff  possible,  to  get  hold  of  both  banks,  from  its  sources  to 
the  ocean.  It  wisely  played  the  higher  game,  and  succeeded;  the 
cession  of  Louisiana  putting  it  in  possession,  not  only  of  both  banks 
where  it  had  but  the  one  before,  but  also  of  the  lower  part  of  the 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  93 

river,  from  which  it  was  previously  excluded.  The  necessities  of 
the  French  treasury  happened  to  coincide  with  the  views  and  policy 
of  the  Federal  Government ;  and  in  1803  the  flag  of  France  was 
struck  on  the  continent,  leaving  the  Americans  the  undisputed 
masters  of  the  valley,  of  the  river,  and  of  all  its  tributaries. 

Both  the  political  and  commercial  importance  of  New  Orleans 
have  been  partly  trenched  upon,  as  already  shown,  by  the  great  lines 
of  communication  which  have  been  established,  to  connect  the  valley 
with  the  Atlantic  seaboard,  and  to  bring  the  Atlantic  cities  within 
the  category  of  its  seaports.  But  for  these  New  Orleans  would  have 
been  its  sole  outlet  to  the  ocean.  Its  northern  and  north-eastern  sec- 
tions now  chiefly  find  their  way  to  the  seaboard  and  to  foreign 
markets  by  the  lakes,  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Erie  canal,  and  the 
Pennsylvania  canals  and  railways.  But  to  all  the  region  south  of 
the  Missouri  on  one  side,  and  bordering  the  Ohio  on  the  other, 
the  one  1,200  and  the  other  1,000  miles  from  New  Orleans,  the 
Mississippi  is  still  and  ever  will  remain,  if  not  the  exclusive,  the 
chief  outlet  to  the  ocean.  The  principal  grain-growing  region  lies 
north  of  these  streams,  but  to  large  sections  of  Iowa,  Illinois,  Indiana, 
and  Ohio,  the  Mississippi  will  be  the  medium  for  the  exportation  of 
grain ;  particularly  of  such  as  is  .sent  from  the  valley  to  the  West 
India  and  South  American  markets.  Whatever  the  eastern  cities 
may  do  to  convert  themselves  into  entrepots  for  the  trade  of  the  west, 
New  Orleans  will  always  share  in  the  trade  of  the  whole  of  it ;  whilst 
to  a  large  portion  of  it,  it  will  ever  be  indispensable.  Should  a  sepa- 
ration ever  occur  between  the  eastern  and  western  States,  which  the 
communications  opened  with  the  Atlantic  render  the  more  improba- 
ble, the  importance  of  New  Orleans  to  the  latter  could  not  be  over- 
estimated. And  even  should  there  be  a  separation  between  the 
western  States  themselves,  such  an  event  would  have  but  little  effect 
upon  the  prospects  of  the  city.  But  such  separation  is  scarcely 
within  the  range  of  probabilities.  Whether  combined  with  the  East 
or  not,  the  West  will  ever  remain  united.  Its  interests  are  one — its 
pursuits  one — its  component  parts  occupy  the  same  great  basin,  and 
are  united  together  by  a  common  interest,  and  a  common  necessity. 
The  M  ississippi  is  the  great  bond  between  them  ;  its  tributaries  are  the 
minor  ligaments  which  bind  them  together ;  and  whatever  fate  may  yet 
await  the  other  portions  of  the  Confederacy,  there  is  but  little  doubt  that 
the  States  of  Wisconsin,  Iowa,  Illinois,  Indiana,  Ohio,  Kentucky,  Mis- 
souri, Tennessee,  Arkansas,  JV1  ississippi,  and  Louisiana,  will  ever 
remain  united  together  in  a  close  commercial  and  political  alliance. 

The  New  Orleans  of  the  present  day  is  typical  of  the  greatness  of 
the  New  Orleans  of  a  future  time.  It  would  be  here  out  of  place  to 
enter  into  any  elaborate  statistical  statements  with  regard  to  its  export 
or  import  trade,  either  in  their  present  development,  or  the  rapid  ex- 


94  THE   WESTERN  WORLD. 

pansion  which  they  have  undergone  during  the  last  quarter  of  a 
century.  Its  chief  articles  of  export  are  cotton,  rice,  hemp,  flax, 
Indian  corn,  salted  provisions,  and  sugar,  the  last  mentioned  com- 
modity being  now  the  principal  product  of  Louisiana.  Its  imports, 
being  drawn  from  almost  all  points  of  the  globe,  are  too  varied  to  be 
here  enumerated.  At  the  cession  the  trade  of  New  Orleans  was  but 
small ;  already  it  has  swelled  into  colossal  dimensions.  A  glance  at 
its  population  returns  will  show  the  rapidity  with  which  it  has 
increased;  and  its  increase  in  size  is  the  sole  result  of  the  increase 
of  its  trade  ;  for  New  Orleans  is  not  the  place  to  which  people  would 
retire  merely  to  live.  In  1810  its  population,  in  round  numbers,  was 
17,000.  In  1820  it  had  risen  to  27,000,  being  an  increase  in  ten 
years  of  from  60  to  70  per  cent.  In  1830  the  return  showed  a 
population  of  46,000,  or  an  increase,  during  the  preceding  decade, 
of  about  the  same  per-centage  as  before.  But  in  1840  the  popula- 
tion had  risen  in  numbers  to  102,000,  being  considerably  more  than 
100  per  cent,  increase  during  these  ten  years.  At  present  the 
number  of  people  inhabiting  it  cannot  be  far  from  150,000.  And 
this  despite  not  only  its  insalubrity,  but  also  the  exaggerated  notions 
which  are  abroad,  even  in  America,  of  its  unhealthiness.  Consider- 
ing the  many  disadvantages  under  which  it  labours,  nothing  more 
conclusive  could  be  adduced  than  this  rapid  advancement,  in  proof 
of  the  imperious  necessity,  in  a  commercial  point  of  view,  of  which 
it  is  the  result.  As  this  necessity  expands  with  the  growth  of  popu- 
lation, the  accumulation  of  produce,  and  the  multiplication  of  wants 
in  the  Mississippi  valley,  the  city,  in  continued  obedience  to  the 
principle  which  first  exhaled  it  from  the  swamps  of  the  Delta,  must 
expand  with  it,  attaining  no  final  limit  until  the  valley  can  contain  no 
more,  produce  no  more,  and  consume  no  more.  The  sense  which 
its  inhabitants  entertain  of  its  future  increase  is  manifest  in  the  scale 
on  which  they  have  laid  out  the  plan  of  the  city,  providing  not  only 
for  its  present  necessities,  but  for  its  future  growth  ;  for  each  of  the 
municipalities  into  which  it  is  divided  extends  from  the  river  to  Lake 
Ponchartrain,  a  dista'nce  of  from  five  to  six  miles.  Should  it  ever 
reach  the  lake,  its  principal  front  will  then  be  turned  upon  the  gulf, 
when  it  will  be  flanked  by  two  harbours,  one  on  the  river  for  the 
trade  with  the  interior,  and  the  other  on  the  lake  for  its  intercourse 
with  the  North  and  with  foreign  ports. 

Many  think  that  a  healthier  site  might  have  been  chosen  higher 
up  the  river,  which  would  have  answered  all  the  purposes  of  the 
present  one,  and  made  the  town  mnch  more  healthy.  But  a  site  so 
chosen  would  not  have  answered  all  the  purposes  of  the  present  one; 
the  object  in  selecting  it  having  been  to  erect  it  upon  the  nearest 
practicable  point  to  the  sea.  Had  an  attempt  been  made  to  build  a 
city  a  little  higher  up,  it  would  have  had  to  compete  with  another, 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  95 

which,  despite  the  disadvantages  of  the  present  site,  would  inevitably 
have  occupied  it.  New  Orleans  might  have  been  built  higher  up, 
but  not  lower  down  the  river. 

The  South  occasionally  exhibits  some  restlessness  at  the  extent  to 
which  the  North  has  become  its  medium  of  communication  with 
England.  Its  export  trade  is  carried  on  directly  with  Europe,  but  a 
great  proportion  of  its  imports,  particularly  in  the  case  of  the  south- 
ern Atlantic  States,  reach  it  through  the  northern  ports.  What  it 
aims  at  is  that  its  import  should  be  as  direct  as  its  export  trade;  and 
more  particularly  that  it  should  possess  a  direct  mail  and  passenger 
communication  with  Europe.  However  valid  the  objection  may  be 
to  an  extensive  land  carriage  of  goods,  or  their  separate  conveyance 
to  the  South  by  coasting  vessels,  after  their  arrival  at  the  northern 
ports,  the  price  being  in  either  case  greatly  enhanced  to  the  consumer 
in  the  South — with  regard  to  letters  and  passengers  it  is  an  objection 
which  scarcely  holds.  A  glance  at  the  map  will  show  that  the  shortest 
mathematical  line  which  can  be  drawn  between  Liverpool  and 
Charleston,  or  New  Orleans,  will  run  up  the  American  coast  to  New 
York  and  Boston,  and  thence  past  Halifax  and  Cape  Race  to  St. 
George's  Channel.  By  the  present  mode  of  communication,  New 
York  arid  Boston  can  be  much  more  speedily  reached  by  the  over 
land  journey  than  they  could  be  passed  from  either  Charleston  or 
New  Orleans  by  sea.  It  may  be  a  little  more  expensive,  but  what 
is  lost  in  money  is  more  than  saved  in  time.  Besides,  hundreds,  and 
in  the  case  of  New  Orleans  thousands  of  miles  of  sea  are  always 
to  be  avoided  if  possible;  and  more  particularly  when  a  journey  by 
land  is  in  the  direct  line  of  one's  course.  If  in  proceeding  by  land 
from  New  Orleans  to  New  York  or  Boston,  on  his  way  to  England, 
the  traveller  deviated  seriously  from  his  course,  it  might  be  a  matter 
worthy  of  consideration  whether  a  more  direct  mode  of  communica- 
tion could  not  be  devised.  But  the  traveller  by  land  from  New 
Orleans  to  New  York,  is  proceeding  in  the  direct  line  to  Liverpool  ; 
every  step  which  he  takes  towards  the  north-east  bringing  him  nearer 
and  nearer  to  that  port.  And  as  to  the  speedy  receipt  of  important 
commercial  or  political  intelligence  from  Europe,  no  direct  line  of 
ocean  communication  with  the  South  could  compete  with  that  by 
Boston  or  New  York,  now  that  the  electric  telegraph  may  be  con- 
sidered as  finished  between  these  ports  and  New  Orleans.  The 
mails  too  can  sooner  be  distributed  through  the  South,  by  railways 
and  steamers  from  the  North,  then  they  could  by  such  an  independ- 
ent communication  as  some  aspire  to  establish.  But,  as  already 
intimated,  the  question  as  to  the  direct  importation  of  goods,  or  the 
establishment  of  a  more  direct  trade  with  Europe,  rests  upon 
different  grounds. 

Before  leaving  the  South  for  the  Western  States,  a  few  general 
remarks  upon  the  more  prominent  peculiarities  of  Southern  life,  as 


96  THE    WESTERN  WORLD. 

they  manifest  themselves  to  the  traveller,  may  serve  as  a  not  inap- 
propriate conclusion  to  the  present  chapter.  There  is,  perhaps,  no 
other  country  in  the  world  where  such  a  contrast  is  exhibited  between 
in-door  and  out-door  life  as  in  America.  Both  in  France  and  Italy, 
where  the  pleasures  and  enjoyments  of  life  partake  so  much  of  an 
out-door  character,  men  and  women  are,  in  their  domestic  relations, 
pretty  much  what  they  are  found  to  be  in  the  gay  and  giddy  world 
without.  In  England,  on  the  other  hand,  where  the  chief  pleasures 
of  life  centre  in  the  domestic  circle,  the  traveller  carries  with  him 
into  the  world  without  much  of  the  sedateness  and  the  reserve  of 
home.  In  both  cases,  society  partakes  more  or  less  of  the  same 
general  characteristics,  whether  you  mingle  with  it  in  the  public 
highways  or  in  the  private  sanctuaries  of  domestic  life.  But  it  is 
not  so  in  America,  where  it  combines,  to  a  great  extent,  the  more 
striking  characteristics  of  life  both  in  England  and  France.  The 
equable  character  of  the  seasons,  the  serenity  of  the  sky,  the  facilities 
provided  both  by  nature  and  art  for  locomotion,  and  the  extent  to 
which,  in  the  prosecution  of  business,  mutual  intercourse  is  carried 
on,  all  tend  to  draw  the  American  more  frequently  from  his  home 
than  the  Englishman  leaves  his,  and  to  cause  much  of  his  life  to  be 
passed,  as  in  France,  in  the  open  world  without.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing this,  he  still  partakes  largely  of  the  domestic  preferences  of  the 
Englishman.  His  life  is  therefore  a  kind  of  medium  between  the 
two  ;  for  whilst  he  does  not  live  so  much  abroad  as  the  Frenchman, 
he  does  not  live  so  much  at  home  as  the  Englishman.  Society  in 
America  has  thus  two  very  distinct  phases  in  which  it  presents  itself, 
that  which  it  assumes  in  the  world  without,  and  that  which  marks 
its  in-door  life.  Life  in  the  streets  and  on  the  highways  is  therefore 
but  an  imperfect  index  to  American  society  in  the  proper  acceptation 
of  the  term.  The  distinction  between  the  two  aspects  which  it 
assumes  in  the  North  is  not  so  great  as  in  the  South,  the  former 
being  in  perpetual  and  almost  universal  motion,  whereas  the 
wealthier  portion  off  the  inhabitants  of  the  latter  pass  much  of  their 
time  in  the  repose  and  quietude  of  rural  life.  The  stranger,  therefore, 
who  only  frequents  the  public  places,  lives  in  the  hotels,  and  traver- 
ses the  highways  of  the  South,  can  form  but  a  very  imperfect 
estimate  of  society  in  that  section  of  the  country.  In  the  South,  as 
in  the  North,  turn  which  way  he  will,  he  will  find  a  stream  of  people 
constantly  on  the  move.  But  in  the  North  the  turgid  current  em- 
braces almost  the  entire  population,  whereas  in  the  South  there  is  a 
large  residuum  that  is  seldom  in  motion.  In  the  North,  therefore, 
society  in  its  external  aspect  is  much  more  pleasing  than  in  the 
South,  inasmuch  as  its  better  as  well  as  its  more  indifferent 
ingredients  mingle  more  frequently  together;  but  in  its  internal 
aspect  it  is  less  so,  as  almost  all  carry  -with  them  into  their  domestic 
relations  more  or  less  of  the  asperities  of  life  in  the  outward  world. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  97 

In  the  South,  society,  as  the  mere  traveller  through  the  country  comes 
in  contact  with  it,  is  by  no  means  attractive,  the  better  elements  of 
social  life  there  mingling  less  frequently  in  the  current ;  and  for  the 
same  reason  Southern  society,  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the 
term,  is  far  more  refined  than  that  of  the  North,  there  being  much 
less  of  the  hrusquerie  of  outward  life  infused  into  it.  If,  then,  that 
with  which  the  traveller  meets  in  the  steamboat,  in  the  market,  on 
the  street,  on  the  railway,  or  in  the  hotel,  can  convey  to  him  but  an 
inadequate  idea  of  society  in  the  North,  much  less  is  that  which  he 
encounters  under  similar  circumstances  in  the  South  calculated  to 
produce  correct  impressions  of  Southern  social  life.  A  stranger 
passing  rapidly  through  the  Southern  States,  and  judging  of 
American  society  from  its  development  upon  the  streets  and  high- 
ways, would  form  a  much  less  favourable  idea  of  it  than  he  would 
of  Northern  society  in  travelling  rapidly  through  the  North.  In  the 
South  he  is  borne  along,  as  he  proceeds,  upon  a  stream,  possessing 
far  less  in  common  with  that  through  which  it  passes  than  the 
current  with  which  he  would  mingle  in  the  North  possesses  of  the 
characteristics  of  the  society  through  which  it  flows.  Whether  on 
the  railway,  the  high  road,  the  steamboat,  and  with  some  exceptions 
in  the  hotel,  out-door  life  in  the  South  has  far  less  to  recommend  it  to 
the  stranger'than  it  has  in  the  North.  Nowhere  is  society,  in  this  its  pub- 
lic manifestation,  very  refined  in  America,  but  it  certainly  has  a  tone 
about  it  in  the  North  of  which  in  the  South  it  is  deficient.  Less 
attention  is  paid  to  accommodation  as  you  proceed ;  everything  seems 
filthy  in  the  car,  the  steamer,  and  the  tavern,  as  compared  with  the 
accommodation  met  with  in  the  Northern  States;  whilst  the  further 
South  one  proceeds,  he  naturally  looks  for  the  appliances  of  cleaiili- 
ness  in  greater  abundance.  Even  the  travellers  themselves,  taking 
them  generally,  are  in  their  tout  ensemble  less  attractive  in  their 
appearance,  and  certainly  less  refined  in  their  habits,  and  less  parti- 
cular in  their  manner,  than  their  Northern  fellow-countrymen  ; 
whilst  not  a  small  proportion  of  those  met  with  in  the  extreme 
South  are  suspicious  in  their  demeanour,  repulsive  in  their  looks, 
and  equivocal  in  their  characters.  New  Orleans,  and  the  other 
towns  situated  near  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  such  as  Natches 
and  Vicksburg,  are  infested  with  characters  to  whom  this  latter 
description  applies;  vagabonds  who  can  only  live  in  that  section  of 
the  Union  where  the  population  is  as  yet  comparatively  scanty,  the 
law  but  feebly  enforced,  and  public  opinion,  even  when  decidedly 
pronounced  against  them,  as  yet  too  impotent  to  crush  them.  These 
gamblers  and  desperadoes  prey  upon  the  unwary,  and  sometimes  by 
their  mere  numbers  overawe,  pillage,  and  terrify  their  more  sober  and 
well-disposed  fellow-travellers.  Such  a  nuisance  in  the  midst  of  any 
community  becomes  at  last  so  intolerable  as  to  work  its  own  cure  ; 
and  it  has  reached  that  point  in  the  South,  the  parties  in  question  no 
VOL.  II.— 9 


98  THE  WESTERN    WORLD. 

longer  carrying  it  with  so  high  a  hand  as  heretofore,  and  being  com- 
pelled year  after  year  to  envelop  their  misdeeds  more  and  more  in 
the  mantle  of  secresy. 

The  reader  must  not  imagine  that  in  travelling  through  the  South 
one  is  constantly  surrounded  by  these  vagabonds ;  but  they  are  fre- 
quently met  with  in  groups  upon  the  Mississippi,  and  the  other  rivers 
of  the  South,  particularly  those  which  enter  the  Mississippi  on  its 
west  bank.  There  can  be  but  little  difficulty  in  detecting  them  to 
any  one  travelling  with  his  eyes  open,  for  their  reckless  look,  and  swag- 
gering, insolent  air,  enable  a  man  of  any  discernment  to  distinguish 
them  at  once  from  the  rest  of  his  fellow-travellers.  Putting  them, 
therefore,  out  of  the  question,  as  parties  who,  by  his  encountering 
them  on  the  highways,  can  lead  the  stranger  into  no  misconception 
of  the  character  of  Southern  society,  what  he  has  to  be  guarded 
against  is  drawing  his  impressions  of  social  life  around  him  from  the 
general  character  of  the  floating  population,  with  whom  alone  he 
mingles.  In  the  South  particularly,  one  must  get  out  of  the  current 
if  he  would  appreciate  American  society  aright.  I  had  afterwards 
many  opportunities  of  witnessing  Southern  life  in  all  its  manifesta- 
tions, and  can  testify  to  the  fact,  that  it  cannot  be  regarded  from  a 
worse  or  a  more  unfair  point  of  view  than  that  from  which  travellers 
have,  but  too  often,  either  from  ignorance,  prejudice,  or  caprice, 
alone  beheld  it.  It  is  this  that  has  given  rise  to  so  many  misrepre- 
sentations of  it ;  parties  assuming  to  delineate  society  generally,  when 
they  were  but  depicting  life  as  they  saw  it  in  the  railway  carriage, 
on  the  steamer,  and  in  the  bar-room. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  99 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   VALLEY    OF    THE    MISSISSIPPI. FROM    NEW    ORLEANS   TO 

VICKSBURG. 

An  unexpected  Meeting. — Departure  from  New  Orleans. — The  Mississippi. — Its 
Dimensions. — Part  which  it  will  yet  play  in  the  Drama  of  Civilization. — 
Scenery  on  its  Banks. — A  Mississippi  Steamer. — Fellow-travellers. — Gam- 
blers again. — An  Incident. — The  State  of  Mississippi. — Repudiation  Case  of 
Mississippi — The  Insolvent  States. — The  Solvent  States. — The  Unindebted 
States. — Responsibility  of  the  States. — Natchez. — Vicksburg. — A  summary 
Trial  and  Execution. — Lynch  Law. — Administration  of  the  Law  throughout 
the  Union. — Position  of  the  People  of  the  West  and  South-west. — Allowances 
which  should  be  made  for  them. 

ON  the  day  previous  to  that  on  which,  after  more  than  a  week's 
sojourn,  I  quitted  New  Orleans,  I  was  delighted,  on  taking  my  seat 
at  the  table  d'hote  of  the  St.  Charles,  in  company  with  about  500 

other  guests,  to  find  a  valued  friend,  Mr.  D from  Baltimore, 

seated  jiext  to  me  on  the  right.  He  was  an  Englishman  in  the 
prime  of  life,  but  had  been  so  long  resident  in  America,  and  had 
made  it  the  scene  of  such  extensive  business  operations,  that  he 
now  combined  with  an  ineradicable  affection  for  his  native  country 
a  very  great  partiality  for  that  of  his  adoption,  and  with  the  feelings 
and  sentiments  of  an  Englishman,  much  that  is  characteristic  of  the 
American.  He  had  never  been  naturalized,  but  he  was  now  begin- 
ning to  reconcile  himself  to  the  idea  of  transferring  his  allegiance,  as 
he  was  of  becoming  a  Benedict ;  his  object  in  contemplating  the 
process  of  naturalization  having  less  reference  to  himself  than  to 
those  who  might  yet  surround  him  in  an  endearing  relationship.  My 
advice  to  him  was  to  take  no  step  that  he  was  not  certain  was  neces- 
sary ;  but  if  he  was  tired  of  being  sole  monarch  of  himself,  to  marry 
first,  and  wait  the  tide  of  events.  The  process  of  naturalization  was 
a  brief  and  a  sure  one  when  entered  upon ;  the  necessity  for  it  in  his 
case  had  not  yet  become  obvious. 

After  we  had  interchanged  the  ordinary  salutations  to  which  such 
unexpected  meetings  invariably  give  rise,  I  learnt  from  him  that  he 
had  arrived  in  New  Orleans  but  the  preceding  day,  and  that  the  next 
was  that  fixed  for  his  departure.  He  had  just  taken  a  run  to  the 
South,  he  said,  to  "  do  a  bit  of  business,"  which,  by  giving  his  per- 
sonal attention  to  it,  he  could  accomplish  more  satisfactorily  in  a 
single  day  than  by  the  correspondence  of  a  month.  By  the  time  he 


100  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

reached  home  his  journey  would  have  considerably  exceeded  in 
length  two  thousand  miles;  but  he  thought  nothing  of  it,  having 
thoroughly  contracted  the  American  aptitude  for  locomotion,  and  the 
indifference  which  the  Americans  manifest  to  distances.  It  was  his 
intention  to  return,  as  he  had  come,  by  the  route  over  which  I  had  just 
passed  ;  but  as  we  had  both  decided  on  the  same  time  for  departure, 
I  deemed  it  worth  while  to  try  if  our  routes  could  not  be  got  to  coin- 
cide. I  therefore  proposed  to  him  to  ascend  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Ohio  with  me,  a  course  which  would  not  take  him  much  out  of  his 
way,  as  from  the  latter  strea-m  he  could  reach  home  by  the  Baltimore 
and  Ohio  railway.  He  readily  consented  to  the  change,  at  which  I 
was  exceedingly  rejoiced,  both  because  he  was  excellent  company, 
and  his  knowledge  of  the  country  and  people  would  be  of  great  ad- 
vantage to  me. 

Next  morning  at  an  early  hour  we  left  New  Orleans  for  St.  Louis. 
Our  journey  was  confined  to  the  Mississippi,  which  we  were  to  ascend 
for  upwards  of  l^OO  miles.  We  were  on  board  a  first-class  steamer, 
and  as  we  receded  from  the  town,  and  before  the  first  curve  of  the 
river  had  hid  it  from  our  view,  I  thought  it,  as  the  morning  sun  shone 
brightly  upon  its  spires  and  cupolas,  its  massive  piles  of  warehouses, 
its  Levee  already  swarming  with  busy  thousands,  and  the  spars  and 
rigging  and  multitudinous  funnels  which  lined  its  semicircular  har- 
bour, one  of  the  finest  views  of  the  kind  I  had  ever  beheld.  In  itself 
the  southern  capital  is  in  every  respect  a  most  interesting  town.  But 
it  has  little  that  is  interesting  around  it,  for  it  stands,  as  it  were,  alone 
in  the  wilderness,  a  city  without  any  immediate  environs,  to  attract 
the  stranger,  or  to  recreate  its  inhabitants. 

The  Mississippi !  It  was  with  indescribable  emotions  that  I  first 
felt  myself  afloat  upon  its  waters.  How  often  in  my  schoolboy 
dreams,  and  in  my  waking  visions  afterwards,  had  my  imagination 
pictured  to  itself  the  lordly  stream,  rolling  with  tumultuous  current 
through  the  boundless  region  to  which  it  has  given  its  name,  and 
gathering  into  itself,  jn  its  course  to  the  ocean,  the  tributary  waters 
of  almost  every  latitude  in  the  temperate  zone!  Here  it  was  then, 
in  4ts  reality,  and  I,  at  length,  steaming  against  its  tide.  I  looked 
upon  it  with  that  reverence  with  which  every  one  must  regard  a  great 
feature  of  external  nature.  The  lofty  mountain,  the  illimitable 
plain,  and  the  seemingly  shoreless  lake,  are  all  objects  which  strike 
the  mind  with  awe.  But  second  to  none  of  them  in  the  sublime 
emotions  which  it  inspires,  is  the  mighty  river ;  and  badly  constituted 
must  that  mind  be,  which  could  contemplate  for  the  first  time  with  a 
feeling  of  indifference  a  stream  which,  in  its  resistless  flow,  passes 
through  so  many  climes,  and  traverses  so  many  latitudes,  rising  amid 
perpetual  snows,  and  debouching  under  an  almost  tropical  sun,  and 
draining  into  itself  the  surplus  waters  of 'about  two  millions  of  square 
miles ! 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  101 

But  the  grandeur  of  the  Mississippi  consists  less  in  the  majestic 
proportions  of  its  physical  aspect  than  in  the  part  which  it  is  yet  des- 
tined to  play  in  the  great  drama  of  civilized  life.  It  was  grand, 
whilst  it  yet  rolled  silently  and  unknown  through  the  unbroken  soli- 
tudes of  the  primeval  forest — it  was  grand,  when  the  indomitable  but 
unfortunate  Soto  first  gazed  upon  its  waters,  and  when  they  opened 
to  receive  at  the  hands  of  his  disconsolate  band,  the  corpse  of  its 
discoverer — and  it  w&s  grand,  when  no  sound  was  heard  along  its 
course  but  the  scream  of  the  eagle  and  the  war-whoop  of  the  savage 
— when  no  smoke  curled  and  wreathed  amid  the  foliage  on  its 
banks  but  such  as  arose  from  the  wigwam,  and  when  nothing  was 
afloat  upon  its  surface  but  the  canoe  and  the  tree  torn  from  its  roots 
by  the  flood.  But  grander  will  it  yet  be,  aye  far  grander,  when  civi- 
lization has  tracked  it  from  its  mouths  to  its  sources;  when  industry 
has  converted  its  sides  into  a  garden,  and  speckled  them  with  lively 
towns  and  glittering  cities;  and  when  busy  populations  line  its 
shores,  and  teem  along  the  banks  of  all  its  tributaries.  Then,  and 
then  only,  will  the  Mississippi  fulful  its  destiny. 

Already,  with  but  nine  millions  of  people  in  the  valley,  its  whole 
aspect  is  changed;  the  wilderness  has  been  successfully  invaded ; 
the  hum  of  busy  industry  is  heard  along  its  shores ;  towns  have 
sprung  up,  as  if  by  magic,  upon  its  banks ;  the  combined  banner  of 
science  and  art  waves  over  its  waters ;  and  hundreds  of  steamers, 
with  a  multitude  of  other  craft,  are  afloat  upon  its  tide.  What  scenes 
will  it  present  when  the  present  population  of  the  valley  is  multiplied 
by  ten,  and  when,  serving  as  a  bond  of  perpetual  union,  stronger 
than  treaties,  protocols,  or  the  other  appliances  of  diplomacy  between 
more  than  a  dozen  sovereign  and  independent  commonwealths,  it 
is  the  common  highway,  along  which  will  be  borne  the  accumulated 
products  of  their  united  industry  to  the  ocean !  Viewed  in  the 
double  light  of  what  it  is  and  what  it  is  to  be,  it  is  marvellous  how 
some  can  look  upon  the  Mississippi  as  nothing  more  than  a  "  muddy 
ditch."  Muddy  it  undoubtedly  is,  but  that  which  renders  its  current 
so  turgid  is  but  the  material  torn  from  distant  regions,  with  which 
it  comes  laden  to  construct  new  territories  in  more  accessible  posi- 
tions. The  opaqueness  of  its  volume  is  thus  but  one  of  the  means 
by  which  is  gradually  accomplished  a  great  physical  phenomenon. 
Regarded  in  connexion  with  the  purposes  to  which  it  will  yet  be 
applied  when  civilization  has  risen  to  full  tide  around  it,  the  Missis- 
sippi must  be  equally  an  object  of  interest  to  the  Englishman  as  to 
the  American — for  what  Englishman  can  look  with  indifference 
upon  that  which  is  yet  destined  to  be  the  principal  medium  of  com- 
munication between  the  great  world  and  the  region  which  is  rapidly 
becoming  the  chief  theatre  for  Anglo-Saxon  enterprise,  and  will  yet 
witness  the  greatest  triumphs  of  Anglo-Saxon  energy  and  skill  ?  He 
takes,  then,  but  a  vulgar  view  of  it  who  treats  as  merely  so  much 

9* 


102  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

muddy  water  running  through  an  unpicturesque  country,  a  stream 
which,  ere  many  more  heads  are  grey,  will  exercise  so  important  an 
influence  upon  the  commercial  and  political  relations  of  the  world. 

Nowhere  has  the  Mississippi  the  majesty  of  appearance  presented, 
throughout  most  of  its  course,  by  the  St.  Lawrence.  At  New  Or- 
leans it  is  scarcely  a  mile  in  width,  expanding  somewhat  a  short 
distance  above  the  city,  and  continuing  of  an  average  width  of 
a  little  more  than  a  mile  as  far  up  as  its  confluence  with  the 
Missouri.  For  a  long  way  beyond  that  point  its  size  diminishes 
but  little,  although  its  depth  is  not  nearly  so  great  as  after  the  junc- 
tion. Its  depth  increases  as  its  volume  is  enhanced  by  the  contribu- 
tions of  one  tributary  after  another,  which  accounts  for  the  absence 
of  any  apparent  enlargement  of  its  size  for  the  last  fifteen  hundred 
miles  of  its  course,  during  which  it  receives  most  of  its  great  tributary 
streams.  The  current  flows  at  the  average  rate  of  three  miles  an 
hour,  and  its  increasing  volume  is  accommodated  by  its  increasing 
depth  as  it  proceeds  through  the  soft  alluvial  deposit  in  which  it  has 
its  bed.  As  it  approaches  its  outlet,  the  current  gradually  diminishes, 
and  will  continue  still  further  to  diminish,  for  reasons  already  ex- 
plained, until  it  is  forced  to  seek  a  new  channel  through  the  Delta. 

We  steamed  famously  on  against  the  voluminous  current,  and  had 
not  proceeded  far  ere  the  country  on  either  side  began  to  look 
firmer,  higher,  drier,  and  richer.  The  banks  were  lined  with  cotton 
and  sugar  plantations,  the  former  now  rapidly  giving  way  to  the 
latter  in  Louisiana. ,  For  some  way  above  the  city,  the  mansions  and 
villas  of  wealthy  proprietors  were  visible,  embosomed  in  foliage,  and 
surrounded  with  luxuriant  gardens.  Further  up  these  gave  way  to 
the  residences  of  the  overseers,  and  the  buildings  erected  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  slaves.  The  one  frequently  looked  elegant,  the 
other  generally  clean,  neat,  and  comfortable,  judging  from  the  dis- 
tance. Gradually  the  banks  began  to  attain  some  elevation  above 
the  level  of  the  stream.  Whether  they  rose  a  few  feet  or  many  above  it, 
they  were  almost  jnvariably  precipitous,  and  in  many  instances 
impending,  the  alluvial  soil  of  which  they  were  composed  being 
partially  undermined  by  the  current,  and  ready  to  drop  into  the 
stream  with  the  trees,  bushes,  grass  and  flowers  with  which  it  was 
covered.  "  It  is  thus  that  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi  are  undergoing 
perpetual  change.  Where  its  course  is  straight  for  any  length,  it  is 
gradually  widening  its  channel,  but  diminishing  it  in  depth ; 
whereas,  where  it  is  winding,  which  is  generally  the  case,  the 
weight  of  the  current  bears  upon  the  outer  circumference  of  the 
curve,  on.  which  it  is  constantly  encroaching,  whilst  it  recedes  to  an 
equal  extent  from  the  opposite  bank.  The  higher  up  we  proceeded  the 
richer  and  more  varied  became  the  forest  on  either  hand,  which 
came  sometimes, sweeping  down  to  the  margin  of  the  river,  and  had 
at  others  receded  for  miles  to  make  way  for  the  plantation.  Occa- 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  103 

sionally  we  passed  through  reaches  of  the  stream,  which  forced 
their  way  through  the  thick  and  tangled  cane-brake,  where  the  cold, 
oozy,  and  sedgy  appearance  of  the  soil  made  me  appreciate  my  dry 
and  firm  footing  upon  the  promenade  deck. 

This  reminds  me  of  our  steamer,  of  which  I  have  as  yet  given  no 
description.  As  we  were  to  be  from  six  to  eight  days  on  board,  we 
took  care  to  scrutinize  her  well  before  engaging  a  passage,  and  it 
may  not  be  uninteresting  to  the  reader  to  know  what  kind  of  ark  it 
was  that  we  were  to  inhabit  for  that  time.  As  already  said,  she  was 
a  first-class,  and  high-pressure  of  course.  One  might  reason  himself 
into  the  belief  that  she  had  a  hull,  knowing  how  necessary  such 
things  are  to  steam-boats;  but,  viewing  her  from  an  ordinary  posi- 
tion, the  eye  could  detect  none ;  all  that  was  visible  for  her  to  rest 
upon  being  her  paddle-wheels,  which  were  very  large.  She  was  of 
immense  width,  the  enormous  protrusion  of  her  lower  deck  on  either 
side  being  the  cause  of  the  invisibility  of  her  hull.  This  was  BO 
constructed  as  to  accommodate  in  front  the  greatest  possible  quantity 
of  cotton  and  other  merchandize  which  she  could  carry  without  sink- 
ing her;  whilst  above  it,  resting  on  very  slender  pillars,  rose  the 
promenade  decks,  covered  abaft  the  engine  with  an  awning.  She 
was  named  the  "  Niobe,"  and  was  like  Niobe,  all  tiers.  The  saloon, 
which  was  between  decks,  occupied  nearly  the  latter  half  of  the 
vessel,  the  state  rooms  lining  it  being  entered  both  from  within,  and 
by  means  of  a  door,  with  which  each  was  provided,  entering  from 
the  walk  between  decks,  which  completely  surrounded  the  saloon, 
the  latter  part  of  which  was  divided  off  into  a  cabin  for  the  ladies. 
She  carried  a  prodigious  quantity  of  white  and  black  paint  upon  her; 
had  two  enormous  funnels,  as  most  American  boats  have;  and  con- 
sumed a  tremendous  supply  of  wood,  shooting  up  flame  at  night,  and 
leaving  a  double  train  of  brilliant  sparks  behind  her,  which,  together 
with  the  lights  which  occasionally  gleamed  faintly  from  the  shore, 
contrasted  curiously  with  the  bright  starlight  overhead.  The  captain 
had  no  positive  qualities  about  him,  either  good  or  evil,  attending  to 
his  chief  duties,  and  letting  his  passengers  look  after  themselves. 
We  found  the  table  exceedingly  good  the  whole  way.  The  weather 
was  very  hot,  but  we  were  supplied  with  fresh  meat  at  the  different 
stations. 

We  had  a  large  company  on  board,  most  of  whom  looked  respect- 
able, and  were  agreeable  enough  as  travelling  companions.  Having 
sufficient  company,  however,  in  my  friend,  I  did  not  mingle  with 
them  as  much  as  I  should  otherwise  have  done.  There  was  one 
group  of  very  suspicious-looking  characters,  who  kept  constantly 
together,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  they  were  shunned  by  every- 
body else.  I  noticed  them  shortly  after  coming  on  board,  as  they 
were  standing  near  the  engine,  examining  a  couple  of  seven-barrelled 
pistols,  and  another  "revolver"  of  a  less  formidable  description, 


104  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

which  a  long-haired  and  long-headed  Yankee  was  offering  them  for 
sale.  These  weapons,  together  with  the  bowie  knife,  tt  id  genus  om?ie, 
are  generally  well  made  and  highly  finished.  The  best  of  them  have 
some  motto  or  other  etched  upon  them.  A  story  was  once  told  of  a 
collision  to  which  a  sudden  quarrel  on  board  a  steamer  was  about 
to  give  rise,  having  been  averted  by  the  singular  coincidence  of  the 
mottos  on  the  weapons  about  to  be  employed.  The  party  offended 
drew  his  bowie  knife,  and  directed  the  attention  of  the  other  to  the 
motto  which  it  bore  upon  its  broad  burnished  blade,  which  was, 
"Hark,  from  the  tombs!"  The  other  cooly  drew  a  pistol  from  his 
breast,  on  the  gleaming  barrel  of  which  was  etehed,  "  A  doleful 
sound?" — the  two  weapons  thus  completing  between  them  the  first 
line  of  a  well  known  hymn.  So  curious  a  coincidence  drew  forth  a 
hearty  laugh  from  all  parties,  and  the  offence  was  forgotten.  It  is  a 
pity  that  some  effective  stop  could  not  be  put  to  the  carrying  of  these 
^weapons,  as  the  very  possession  of  them  frequently  precipitates  fatal 
collisions.  The  group  of  gamblers  adverted  to  left  us  at  Natches. 
They  had  intended  to  proceed  higher  up,  and  had  paid  their  fare 
to  a  greater  distance ;  but  there  being  no  prospect  of  their  success- 
fully plying  their  vocation  on  board,  they  went  ashore  at  the  place 
which  was  once  notorious  as  their  chief  resort,  and  is  still  grievously 
infested  with  them. 

The  fiery  blood  of  the  South  is  easily  excited,  and  a  slight  incident 
occurred  on  board  which  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  witnessing  the 
readiness  to  take  offence,  which  is  a  marked  feature  in  southern 
character.  Four  or  five  young  men  were  standing  together  convers- 
ing on  the  promenade  deck,  when  one  of  them,  a  Virginian,  gave 
an  elaborate  description  of  a  young  horse  which  he  had  lately  pur- 
chased. After  dwelling  upon  his  different  excellences,  and  particu- 
larly describing  his  action,  he  asked  the  company  in  general  how 
much  they  thought  he  gave  for  him. 

"  Your  note,  what  else?  "said  one  of  those  addressed,  in  the  driest 
possible  tone.  » 

In  a  moment  the  young  man's  eyes  flashed  fire — and,  had  he  pos- 
sessed a  weapon,  a  fatal  collision  might  have  been  the  result,  for  the 
other  was  armed. 

"  A  joke,  a  joke !"  cried  the  rest  of  the  company,  "  nothing 
more;  no  offence  meant."  And  after  some  further  interposition  on 
their  part,  the  storm  was  strangled  in  its  cradle. 

"  A  joke  that  came  too  near  the  truth,  I  fancy,"  said  one  over  his 
shoulder,  in  an  under-tone  to  another,  as  they  immediately  after- 
wards separated. 

When  about  two-thirds  of  the  way  to  Natches,  we  passed  the  line 
dividing,  on  the  east  bank  of  the  river,  the  State  of  Louisiana  from 
that  of  Mississippi-;  the  former  continuing  upon  the  west  bank  for 
nearly  two  degrees  further  to  the  north.  On  passing  the  boundary, 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  105 

and  having  the  State  of  Mississippi  on  our  right,  my  mind  very 
naturally  reverted  to  a  subject  with  which  the  name  of  that  State  has 
for  some  years  been  most  unfavourably  identified.  My  thoughts  at 
length  found  vent  in  expression,  and  I  observed  to  my  companion, 
that  it  was  a  matter  of  astonishment  to  me  that  a  State  possessed  of 
resources  like  those  of  Mississippi,  could  remain  for  one  hour  longer 
than  it  could  avoid  it  under  the  stigma  which  now  rested  upon  its 
character. 

"  The  subject  with  which  your  mind  is  now  occupied,"  said  he, 
"is  one  on  which  there  is  much  misconception  abroad.  It  is  mis- 
understood both  through  ignorance  and  prejudice.  Some  cannot, 
and  others  will  not,  give  it  an  impartial  consideration." 

"  I  have  heard  the  same  thing  more  than  once  advanced  during 
my  peregrinations  through  the  country,"  I  replied,  "and  am  inclined 
to  believe  that  abroad  the  case  is  very  much  prejudged.  I  should 
much  like  to  know  the  sentiments  regarding  it  entertained  by  one 
occupying  a  position  in  the  country  so  favourable  to  a  proper  ap- 
preciation of  the  subject  as  is  yours." 

"  I  have  no  objections  to  giving  you  my  views,"  said  Mr.  D , 

"|but  I  must  first  stipulate,  that  you  will  carefully  discriminate  be- 
tween my  endeavours  to  place  the  subject  in  its  proper  light,  and  any 
approval  on  my  part  of  the  principle  or  practice  of  repudiation.  I 
1  demand  this,  not  because  I  think  that  you  would  willingly  miscon- 
strue my  motives,  or  attribute  to  me  principles  which  every  honour- 
able mind  would  scorn  to  entertain ;  but  because  our  countrymen, 
full  of  preconceived  opinions  upon  the  subject,  are  but  too  ready  to 
denounce  every  effort  at  eliciting  the  real  merits  of  the  case,  as 
nothing  short  of  a  direct  advocacy  of  repudiation." 

I  readily  promised  to  comply,  assuring  him  that  my  object  was 
not  to  confirm  any  preconceived  notion  of  my  own,  but  to  get  at  the 
truth,  no  matter  to  what  inference  or  conclusion  it  might  lead. 

"As  to  the  villainy  of  repudiation,"  said  he,  "naked,  absolute, 
and  unequivocal,  there  can  be  no  two  opinions  amongst  honourable 
men." 

To  such  a  proposition  I  could  not  but  assent. 

"  If  any  member  of  this  Confederacy,"  he  observed,  continuing, 
"  or  any  other  community,  no  matter  where  situated,  were  guilty  of 
such,  no  man  who  valued  his  own  reputation  could  attempt  to  raise 
his  voice  in  its  defence." 

I  acknowledged  the  risk  any  one  would  run  in  doing  so. 

"Now,"  continued  he,  "  whilst  this  is  the  crime  with  which  some 
States  are  directly  charged,  and  in  which  the  whole  Union  is  more 
or  less  involved,  in  the  opinion  of  so  many  abroad;  it  is  a  crime  of 
which  no  member  of  this  Confederacy  has  as  yet  been  guilty,  and  of 
which,  I  trust,  no  member  of  it  ever  will  be  guilty." 

"  For  my  own  part,"  I  observed  in  reply,  "  I  always  discriminated 


106  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

widely  between  the  case  of  Mississippi  and  that  of  the  other  States, 
which  are  either  wholly  or  have  been  but  temporarily  insolvent,  and 
have  certainly  never,^even  in  word  or  thought,  attempted  to  involve 
the  innocent  with  the  guiky.J} 

"  You  select,"  said  he,  "  the  case  of  Mississippi,  no  doubt,  as  the 
worst  in  the  catalogue.  So  it  is ;  but  even  Mississippi  is  not  guilty 
of  the  enormities  with  which  she  stands  charged.  Repudiation,  in 
its  simple  acceptation,  is  the  refusal  to  pay  a  debt  acknowledged  to 
be  justly  due.  Now,  as  thus  construed,  even  Mississippi  has  not 
been  guilty  of  repudiation.  The  debt  which  she  has  refused  to  pay  is 
a  debt  which  she  does  not  acknowledge  to  be  justly  due.  If  not 
fraudulently,  she  insists  that  it  was,  at  least,  illegally  contracted,  so 
that  she  regards  it  as  a  debt  which  she  may,  but  which  she  is  not 
bound  to  pay.  Whilst  this  is  the  real  state  of  the  case,  she  gets 
credit  for  cherishing  a  conviction  of  the  justice  of  their  claims,  at 
the  same  time  that  she  sets  her  creditors  at  defiance.  Her  language 
to  them  is  supposed  to  be  this : — '  I  owe  you  the  money,  and  can 
have  no  possible  objection  to  your  claim  ;  but  you  may  whistle  for 
it,  for  not  one  farthing  of  what  I  justly  owe  you  shall  you  receive 
from  me.'  Whatever  community  or  individual  would  hold  such 
language  to  its  or  his  creditors,  must  have  previously  sounded  the 
deepest  depths  of  infamy.  It  is  consoling  to  know  that  even  the 
Mississippians  have  not  done  this,  for  even  they  have  the  grace  left 
to  seek  to  shelter  themselves  behind  an  excuse  for  their  conduct." 

"  There  is  certainly  some  sense  of  honour  left,"  I  observed,  "  in 
those  who  care  for  explaining  away  or  extenuating  their  disgraceful 
conduct,  provided  the  endeavour  to  do  so  be  not  solely  with  a  view 
to  escape  the  punishment  which  might  otherwise  attach  to  it.  The 
man  who  tries  to  excuse  himself  for  the  commission  of  a  wrong, 
testifies,  to  some  extent,  in  favour  of  what  is  right.  If  the  Missis- 
sippians are  not  the  graceless  and  unblushing  repudiators  which  they 
are  supposed  to  be,  I  should  like  to  know  the  nature  of  their  excuse, 
for  upon  that  depends  altogether  the  extent  to  which  it  can  palliate 
their  conduct." 

"I  by  no  means  wish,"  replied  Mr.  D ,  "  to  screen  the  State 

of  Mississippi  from  any  obloquy  which  may  justly  attach  to  her  in 
what  I  have  already  said  ;  my  sole  object  has  been  to  show  that  even 
she  has  not  gone  the  length  to  which  many  suppose  or  wish  to  be- 
lieve that  several  of  the  States  have  gone  :  for  even  she  is,  in  her 
own  eyes,  not  without  excuse  for  what  she  has  done.  Whether  that 
excuse  be  valid  or  not  is  another  question.  It  may  not  be  of  a 
nature  to  rescue  her  from  all  blame,  but  the  very  fact  that  she  tenders 
one  is  sufficient  to  relieve  her  from  the  grosser  charge  which  is  so 
very  generally  hurled  against  her." 

"  But  her  excuse?"  said  I. 

"  The   entire   debt  of   Mississippi,"    said   he,  "  has   not    been 

J 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  107 

repudiated.  It  is  only  a  portion  of  it,  though  certainly  the  greater 
portion,  that  has  been  thus  dealt  with.  Her  excuse  for  refusing  to 
pay  that  portion  rests  upon  the  alleged  illegality  of  the  transactions 
which  made  her  a  debtor  to  that  amount.  The  debt,  she  asserts,  was 
unconstitutionally  contracted;  and  was,  therefore,  never  binding 
upon  her,  so  as  to  give  her  creditors  any  legal  claim  upon  her  for  its 
repayment." 

"  But  how,"  I  asked,  "  was  the  foreign  capitalist  to  know  whether 
the  constitutional  forms  of  the  State  of  Mississippi  were  or  were  not 
complied  with,  in  the  conduct,  by  her  accredited  officers,  of  the 
transactions  which  resulted  in  their  becoming  her  creditors  T 

"  They  should,  for  their  own  sakes,"  said  he,  "  have  seen  that  they 
were.  The  debt  was  contracted  by  virtue  of  a  law  of  the  State. 
The  form  of  the  bonds  was  prescribed.  They  should  have  satisfied 
themselves,  before  advancing  their  money,  that  the  law  was,  in  every 
respect,  complied  with.  It  was  not  in  a  mere  non-essential  that  the 
prescribed  form  of  the  bonds  was  departed  from.  The  variation 
was  both  as  to  the  place  of  payment,  and  the  currency  in  which  pay- 
ment was  to  be  made.  Who  are  more  interested  in  the  correctness 
of  such  transactions  than  they  who  are  advancing  their  money  upon 
them  ?  The  means  of  knowledge  were  within  their  reach,  had  they 
cared  for  making  use  of  them.  But  it  is  the  opinion  of  some,  that 
whilst  many  lent  their  money  upon  securities  which  they  never  sus- 
pected of  being  faulty,  there  were  not  a  few  amongst  those  who 
dealt  very  largely  in  them,  who  connived  at  the  flaws  which  were 
introduced  into  them,  greedily  anxious  to  invest  their  money  at  a 
rate  of  interest  unattainable  at  home,  and  trusting  to  the  honour  of 
the  people  of  the  State  to  stand  by  their  bonds,  whether  they  were 
faulty  or  otherwise." 

"  I  confess,"  said  I,  "  that  could  such  a  suspicion  be  brought  home 
to  any  of  the  creditors  of  the  State,  if  their  fate  would  not  be  pro- 
nounced a  just  one,  few  would  sympathize  with  them  in  their 
misfortunes.  But  until  the  charge  be  proved,  it  must  be  taken  as  a 
mere  suspicion,  and  the  original  holders  of  the  vitiated  bonds  must 
stand,  without  exception,  in  the  category  of  bona  Jidc  creditors. 
This  being  so,  it  behoved  the  State  to  adopt  as  its  own  the  acts  of 
its  agents,  and  to  exact  satisfaction  from  these  agents  for  deviating 
from  their  powers,  instead  of  visiting  its  creditors  with  the  penalty 
of  their  misconduct.  And  this  the  State  was  more  particularly 
bound  to  do,  seeing  that  it  has  had  the  benefit  of  the  money,  and 
that  its  securities  have  long  since  passed  into  the  hands  of  bonajide 
and  innocent  holders." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  observed  Mr.  D ;  "  this  would  have 

been  giving  effect  to  the  moral  obligation,  and  waiving  the  mere 
legal  technicality.  But  this  is  the  case  on  which  Mississippi  grounds 
what  she  considers  to  be  her  legal  exoneration  from  the  payment  of 


108  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

her  debt.  This,  in  short,  is  her  excuse.  I  did  not  undertake  to 
prove  it  a  valid  one,  nor  do  I  now  express  any  opinion  upon  that 
subject.  All  that  I  wished  to  show  was,  that  whether  valid  or  not, 
the  fact  that  she  tenders  an  excuse  redeems  her,  improper  and  im- 
politic though  her  conduct  has  been,  from  the  charge  so  constantly 
brought  against  her,  of  having  unblushingly  set  at  defiance  every 
legal  as  well  as  every  moral  obligation.  Had  Mississippi  acted 
prudently,  she  would  have  paid  her  debt  and  impeached  her  agents. 
The  truth  is,  she  is  at  present  unable  to  pay,  and  takes  shelter  behind 
a  legal  flaw,  as  is  done  every  day  between  man  and  man,  when 
agents  deviate  from  their  patent  instructions,  and  a  flaw  the  validity 
of  which  the  mere  legalist  may  recognise.  But  by-and-by  the 
moral  obligation  will  triumph  over  the  technical  objection." 

"  Were  I  convinced/'  I  observed,  "  that  she  was  merely  unable  to 
pay,  I  should  regard  her  position  more  as  her  misfortune  than  her 
fault.  But  I  can  scarcely  admit  the  suggestion  of  inability,  when  I 
consider  her  immense  and  varied  resources." 

"  Her  resources  are  undoubtedly  great,"  continued  he,  "  but  they 
are  yet  but  partly  available,  the  bulk  of  them  being  still  in  a  latent 
state.  There  is  no  place  where  so  many  warnings  are  given  against 
extending  the  presure  of  direct  taxation  as  in  England.  Consider- 
ing the  extent  to  which  her  resources  have  been  developed,  and  are 
available  as  subjects  of  taxation,  it  seems,  for  the  present,  to  have 
been  carried  to  its  utmost  limit  in  Mississippi.  The  annual  revenue 
raised  by  her  is  a  little  upwards  of  three  hundred  thousand  dollars ; 
and,  with  the  exception  of  about  five  thousand,  it  is  all  the  product 
of  direct  taxes." 

"  If  direct  taxes  have  reached  their  limit  in  England,  it  is  because 
of  the  heavy  pressure  of  the  accumulated  load  of  indirect  taxation 
under  which  she  groans  and  staggers.  But  in  proportion  as  she  i,s 
relieved  of  the  one,  there  is  no  reason  why  the  other  might  not  safely 
be  extended.  It  seems  that  Mississippi  has  no  indirect  taxation  to 
add  to  the  pressure  of  her  direct  taxes." 

"  She  has  no  indirect  taxation  for  local  purposes,"  he  observed, 
"  but  it  would  be  wrong  to  infer  that  the  sum  which  she  raises  by 
direct  taxes  is  all  the  burden  she  is  called  upon  to  bear  in  the  way 
of  taxation.  The  amount  which,  by  her  consumption  of  foreign 
articles,  she  pays  towards  the  support  of  the  general  government,  is 
double  what  she  raises  for  the  maintenance  of  her  local  administra- 
tion. She  has  thus,  as  England  has,  to  sustain  the  combined 
pressure  of  the  two  systems." 

"  Admitting,"  said  I, "  that  the  State  is  already  taxed  to  the  utmost 
limits  of  endurance,  the  debt  under  which  she  labours  was,  as  I 
understand  it,  contracted  for  the  construction  of  public  works.  Why, 
with  such  limited  resources,  undertake  such  gigantic  works?  Why 
did  she  go  so  much  beyond  her  depth  ?" 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  109 

"  If  England  cannot  undertake  a  little  war,  neither  can  America 
a  little  improvement.  Public  works  on  the  European  scale  would 
be  of  but  little  value  on  this  continent,  where  the  features  of  nature 
are  exhibited  in  such  gigantic  outline.  When  art  comes  in  aid  of 
nature,  it  must  conform  itself  to  the  scale  of  nature.  The  points  to 
be  united  here  are  important ;  and  as  they  are  generally  far  apart, 
the  means  of  uniting  them,  whether  it  be  by  canal,  telegraph  or 
railway,  must  be  great  in  proportion.  By  a  canal  a  few  score  miles 
in  length,  they  complete  in  England  a  natural  and  artificial  naviga- 
tion of  one  or  two  hundred  rniles.  By  a  canal  a  few  hundred  miles 
in  length  in  America,  they  complete  a  natural  and  artificial  naviga- 
tion extending  for  thousands  of  miles.  There,  they  connect  the 
Humber  wijh  the  Mersey,  the  Forth  with  the  Clyde;  here  the  Ohio 
with  the  Delaware,  the  Hudson  with  the  Mississippi.  There  the 
important  points  to  be  united  together  are  at  but  trifling  distances 
from  each  other,  and  in  reaching  them,  the  one  from  the  other,  you 
proceed  along  the  smiling  vale  which  the  eye  can  generally  grasp  at 
a  single  vision,  cross  the  rivulet  which  the  schoolboy  can  leap,  and 
thread  a  mazy  course  amongst  gentle  undulations,  some  of  which  it 
is  cheaper  to  tunnel  than  to  turn;  but  here,  cities,  towns,  and  the 
great  marts  of  commerce  lie  far  apart,  and  to  unite  them  you  have 
to  traverse  in  long  straight  lines  the  boundless  plain,  penetrate  the 
mountain  ridges,  intersect  the  interminable  forest,  span  or  ferry  the 
mightiest  rivers,  and  cross  morass  after  morass,  all  of  them  yet  un- 
drained,  and  some  of  them  undrainable.  Taking  them  as  far  as 
they  go,  there  are  no  works  more  solid  or  substantial,  or  that  exhibit 
themselves  as  greater  triumphs  of  the  skill  and  perseverance  of  a 
people,  than  the  public  works  of  England.  But  they  are  on  a  small 
scale  when  compared  with  those  already  executed  and  projected 
here,  and  such  as  are  to  be  yet  projected  and  executed.  People 
measure  the  greatness  of  their  works  by  the  scale  of  the  occasion 
for  them.  Improvements  here  are  on  a  scale  which  the  people  are 
accustomed  to,  but  a  scale  which  in  England  would  be  considered 
prodigious.  The  reason  is,  that  in  the  one  case  it  is  necessary  to 
conform  to  it,  whereas  in  the  other  it  would  be  unnecessary  to  adopt 
it.  There  are  several  of  the  unfinished  canals  of  America,  any  one 
of  which  would  make  the  circuit  of  some  kingdoms.  The  American 
is,  therefore,  condemned  to  the  alternative  of  making  no  improve- 
ment at  all,  or  of  conforming  himself  in  making  them  to  the  scale 
of  circumstances.  For  the  last  fifteen  years  a  mania  for  internal 
improvements  has  overspread  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  Mississippi 
participated  in  it.  She  was  poor,  and  the  works  which  she  under- 
took were  great  and  expensive;  but  their  prospective  fruits  seemed 
to  justify  both  the  effort  and  the  outlay.  But  her  credit  was  shaken 
before  they  were  all  completed,  and  some  of  them  are,  for  the  pre- 

VOL.  II.— 10 


110  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

sent,  absolutely  profitless  investments.  She  went  greatly  beyond 
her  depth ;  but  so  have  too  many  other  States,  both  in  the  Old 
World  and  in  the  New.  If  she  was  too  eager  to  borrow,  so  were 
capitalists  too  eager  to  lend." 

"  All  this,"  said  I,  "may  serve  as  an  excuse  for  her  imprudence, 
but  you  have  not,  in  my  opinion,  exonerated  her  from  the  substan- 
tial charge  against  her.  In  pleading  an  excuse  for  the  repudiation  of 
her  debt,  she  has  paid  but  a  lip  homage  to  common  decency." 

"But  even  that  shows  that  a  sentiment  of  honesty  still  remains; 
and  so  long  as  that  lingers  in  her  bosom,  there  is  hope  of  her  re- 
demption." 

"That  I  believe,"  I  observed,  "for  even  if  honour  fail  to  induce 
her]  to  do  so,  policy  and  self-interest  will  yet  prompt  her  to  redeem 
herself;  and  I  have  little  doubt  but  that  the  day  will  soon  come  when 
she  will  thoroughly  repent  of  her  waywardness,  and  again  hold  up 
her  head  amongst  the  nations  of  the  world." 

Mr.  D here  interrupted  our  conversation  to  point  out  to  me 

the  mouth  of  the  Red  River,  which  entered  the  Mississippi  from  the 
west.  What  we  saw  was  more  where  the  confluence  took  place  than 
the  confluence  itself,  an  island  which  had  been  thrown  up  by  the 
combined  action  of  the  two  rivers  hiding  the  junction  from  our  view. 
This  great  stream,  rising  amongst  the  more  easterly  ridges  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  within  what  was  once  the  territory  of  Mexico, 
and  forming,  for  part  of  its  course,  the  dividing  line  between  the  two 
republics,  flows  for  about  1,500  miles  before  it  enters  the  Mississippi, 
within  the  territory  of  Louisiana.  Its  navigation  was  formerly  com- 
pletely interrupted  by  what  was  known  as  the  Red  River  Raft.  All 
the  rivers  in  the  valley  when  in  flood  bring  down  with  them  enor- 
mous quantities  of  timber,  the  spoils  of  the  territories  which  they 
periodically  inundate.  Such  was  the  amount  brought  down  by  the 
Red  River,  that  at  a  point  not  far  from  its  mouth  its  channel  was  at 
length  almost  choked  up,  the  timber  having  lodged  in  such  quantity 
that  the  stream  cotrld  not  displace  it;  each  successive  flood  added 
to  the  obstruction,  until  at  length  this  raft  came  to  exceed  thirty 
miles  in  length.  In  some  places  soil  was  being  rapidly  deposited 
upon  it,  and  vegetation  making  its  appearance  upon  its  surface,  and 
there  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  raft  would  soon  have  be- 
come an  island,  around  which  the  river  would  have  flowed  in  two 
new  channels  to  the  Mississippi.  To  prevent  the  stream  from  being 
diverted,  and  to  open  up  the  navigation  at  once,  the  raft  has  been 
removed,  or  partially  so,  at  immense  cost,  by  the  general  government, 
a  broad  canal  or  channel  having  been  cut  completely  through  it. 
There  is,  therefore,  every  probability  that  it  will  by-and-by  entirely 
disappear. 

On  our  right,  bluffs  of  considerable  height  now  overhung  the 


THE   WESTERN  WORLD.  Ill 

river,  and  the  country  on  either  hand,  which  was  exceedingly  rich, 
began  to  assume  a  more  undulating,  and  consequently  a  more  inter- 
esting appearance. 

"Not  only,"  said  my  friend,  resuming  the  conversation,  which  had 
been  interrupted  for  a  few  minutes,  "  has  the  precise  position  of  Mis- 
sissippi with  regard  to  her  debt  been  misunderstood,  but  other  States, 
either  still  or  formerly  insolvent,  have  been  confounded  with  her  iu 
the  charge  of  absolute  and  unequivocal  repudiation.  Whether  the 
excuse  preferred  by  Mississippi  be  a  valid  one,  or  a  mere  quibble, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  for  the  present  she  refuses  to  acknowledge  a 
portion  of  her  debt ;  in  other  words,  she  refuses  to  pay  it,  either  prin- 
cipal or  interest.  It  is  undoubtedly  true  that  there  are  other  States, 
such  as  Pennsylvania  and  Maryland,  which  have  been  in  the  same 
category  so  far  as  the  mere  non-payment  of  their  debts  is  concerned  ; 
but  in  no  other  particular  can  their  position  be  regarded  as  identical 
with  that  of  Mississippi..  They  have  never  repudiated  their  debts. 
Mississippi  alone  has  refused  either  to  pay  or  to  recognise  the 
legality  of  the  claims  against  her;  the  others  have,  admitting  their 
obligations,  been  simply  unable  to  meet  them." 

"  I  acknowledge  the  difference/'  said  I,  "  between  a  downright 
refusal  to  pay,  and  an  inability,  either  temporary  or  permanent,  to 
pay.  But  inability,  to  excuse,  must  be  proved.  The  debt  of  Penn- 
sylvania is  a  little  upwards  of  forty  millions  of  dollars.  The  annual 
interest  payable  thereon  is  a  little  above  two  millions  of  dollars.  Now 
the  property  of  the  State  in  canals,  railroads,  &c.,  is  computed  at 
upwards  of  thirty  millions.  The  .real  and  personal  property  of  the 
State,  irrespective  of  this  public  property,  is  estimated  at  upwards  of 
2,000,000,000  of  dollars.  Is  it  possible  that  with  such  resources 
Pennsylvania  can  plead  inability  to  pay?" 

"  There  is  no  doubt,"  said  he,  "  but  that  the  resources  of  Penn- 
sylvania are  more  than  sufficient  to  cover  a  much  greater  debt  than 
that  under  which  she  now  labours.  The  works  in  which  the  money 
borrowed  has  been  invested  having  failed  for  the  present  to  be  as 
productive  as  it  was  expected  they  would  be,  the  State  had  to  look 
to  other  sources  for  the  means  of  meeting  her  obligations.  The  only 
feasible  mode  of  procuring  these  means  appeared  to  be  to  lay  an 
assessed  tax  upon  real  and  personal  property.  This  course  was 
resorted  to,  but  for  a  few  years  the  produce  of  this  tax  was  much 
less  than  was  anticipated,  resistance  being  made  to  its  payment, 
chiefly  by  the  German  population  of  the  State.  The  treasury  was 
thus  temporarily  bankrupt ;  and  not  only  was  the  debt  not  diminished, 
but  the  interest  upon  it  was  not  paid.  But  this  did  not  last  long,  the 
State,  which  had  never  repudiated  her  debt,  at  length  finding  the  as- 
sessed taxes  sufficiently  productive  to  enable  her  not  only  to  pay  the 
interest,  but  to  redeem  this  year  a  portion  of  the  principal.  Pennsyl- 
vania fell  behind  in  a  moment  of  bitter  disappointment,  on  finding  her 


112  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

public  works,  notwithstanding  all  the  promises  that  had  been  held 
out  to  her,  insufficient  for  the  time  being  to  meet  the  interest  of  the 
sums  which  had  been  expended  upon  them.  She  now  thoroughly 
understands  her  position,  which  is  to  make  up  the  deficit  by  extraor- 
dinary exertions.  This  she  is  now  doing  by  means  of  her  assessed 
taxes,  and  will  continue  to  do  until  her  whole  debt  is  paid  off,  or  until 
her  public  works  become  sufficiently  productive  to  meet  through  their 
means  alone  the  obligations  contracted  for  their  construction." 

"  I  am  truly  rejoiced,"  I  replied,  "  to  see  Pennsylvania  once  more 
in  her  proper  position  as  a  solvent  State.  For  one  I  never  regarded 
her  in  the  light  of  a  repudiating  one.  But  when  a  State  like  Penn- 
sylvania, plethoric  with  resources,  omitted  to  pay  the  interest  upon 
a  debt,  insignificant  in  amount  as  compared  with  these  resources,  it 
is  not  so  much  to  be  wondered  at,  perhaps,  that  those  who  suffered 
by  such  omission  should  have  risen  into  exaggeration  in  their  charges 
against  her,  or  that  those  who  sympathised  with  them,  but  were  not 
otherwise  interested,  should,  without  examining  for  themselves,  have 
been  influenced  by  the  sufferers  in  their  judgments." 

"Precisely  so,"  observed  Mr.  D. :  "  but  it  is  too  much  the 

fashion  in  England  to  stigmatise  all  the  insolvent,  as  repudiating 
States.  Insolvency  is  a  misfortune,  repudiation  a  crime.  Some  of 
the  insolvent  States  have  given  up  their  public  works  at  a  valuation 
to  their  creditors,  and  are  making  every  possible  struggle  to  relieve 
themselves  from  their  embarrassments.  They  are  in  a  position 
similar  to  that  occupied  by  Spain  in  regard  to  her  public  debt  at 
this  moment.  She  does  not  pay,  but  no  one  thinks  of  charging  her 
with  repudiation.  The  insolvent  States  are  in  the  same  category, 
with  the  single  exception  of  Mississippi,  who  in  absolutely  refusing  to 
pay,  thinks,  or  affects  to  think,  that  she  has  good  reason  for  so  doing." 

"  It  is  difficult,"  I  observed,  "to  say  why  it  rs,  but  so  it  is,  that 
Englishmen  are  too  prone  to  mingle  severity  with  their  judgments 
whenever  the  Republic  is  concerned.  It  is  the  interest  of  aristo- 
cracy to  exhibit  republicanism,  wherever  it  is  found,  in  the  worst 
possible  light,  and  the  mass  of  the  people  have  too  long,  by  pander- 
ing to  their  prejudice,  aided  them  in  their  object.  They  recognise 
America,  as  the-  stronghold  of  republicanism.  If  they  can  bring  it 
into  disrepute  here,  they  know  that  they  inflict  upon  it  the  deadliest 
blow  in  Europe.  Spain  is  yet  a  monarchy,  and  consequently  in 
fashion.  Were  she  a  republic,  her  present  financial  state  would  be 
imputed  to  her  as  the  greatest  of  her  crimes.  This  is  the  reason 
why  many,  who  could  have  done  so,  have  not  discriminated  between 
the  case  of  one  State  and  another  in  the  American  Union.  They 
eagerly  catch  at  the  perversities  of  one,  which  they  exhibit  as  a  sample 
of  all  the  rest.  It  is  thus  that  the  public  mind  in  Europe  has  been 
misled ;  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  literature  has,  in  too  many  cases, 
by  self-perversion,  lent  its  powerful  aid  to  the  deception." 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  113 

"But  this  want  of  discrimination,"  observed  Mr.  D ,  "  is 

not  confined  to  the  case  of  the  insolvent  States  alone.  It  is  also 
too  much  the  fashion  in  England  to  speak  of  all  the  States  as  if  they 
had,  without  exception,  repudiated  their  obligations.  They  forget, 
or  rather  will  not  remember,  that,  whilst  some  of  the  States  are  free 
from  debt  altogether,  the  majority  of  them,  being  more  or  less  in 
debt,  are  solvent,  like  Great  Britain  herself,  and  quite  as  likely  to 
continue  so.  But  they  are  all  flippantly  spoken  of,  as  if,  in  the  first 
place,  they  were  one  and  all  insolvent;  and  in  the  next,  had  one  and 
all  repudiated  their  debts." 

"There  is  much  truth,"  said  I,  "In  what  you  urge,  and  I  must 
confess  that  nothing  can  be  more  unfair." 

"But  the  most  extraordinary  thing  connected  with  this  whole 
matter,"  said  he,  "  is  the  call  which  is  made  by  some  who  are  igno- 
rant of  the  relationship  in  which  the  different  States  stand  towards  each 
other,  and  by  others  who  thoroughly  understand  it,  upon  the  solvent 
Stales,  to  pay,  or  to  aid  in  paying,  the  debts  of  such  as  are  in  default. 
What  encouragement  would  a  man  have  to  pay  his  own  way  in  the 
world,  if  he  were  liable  to  be  called  upon  to  clear  the  scores  of  his 
neighbours?  Of  what  avail  would  it  be  to  New  York  to  keep  herself 
out  of  debt,  or,  in  contracting  obligations,  to  respect  the  limits  of  her 
solvency,  if  she  were  liable  to  be  involved  in  the  extravagances 
which  might  be  committed  by  any  or  by  all  of  the  neighbouring 
communities?" 

"But  this  call,"  I  observed," interrupting  him,  "  upon  the  solvent 
States  to  assume,  in  part,  the  debts  of  their  confederates,  is  based 
upon  the  supposition  that  they  are  each  but  a  component  part  of  one 
great  country." 

"  And  so  they  are,"  replied  he,  "  for  certain  purposes,  but  not  for 
all.  A,  B,  and  C,  unite  in  copartnership,  for  the  avowed  pupose  of 
manufacturing  certain  kinds  of  goods,  but  for  none  other.  If  the 
objects  of  the  copartnership  are  published  to  the  world,  it  would  be 
unreasonable  to  hold  that  they  were  bound  together  for  purposes  not 
specified  amongst  these  objects.  In  any  transaction  connected  with 
the  business  of  the  firm,  any  one  of  the  partners  can  bind  all  the 
rest.  But  in  transactions  notoriously  alien  to  the  business  of  the 
firm,  it  is  not  competent  for  any  one  partner  to  bind  his  fellows;  and 
any  one  giving  him  credit  in  such  transactions,  does  so  upon  his 
own  sole  responsibility.  Should  the  security  of  the  individual  fail 
in  such  a  case,  the  creditor  would  be  laughed  at  who  would  call  upon 
the  firm  to  liquidate  the  debt,  And  so  it  is  with  the  Federal  Union. 
The  States  of  which  it  is  composed  are  bound  together  in  a  political 
relationship,  for  certain  specified  objects,  and  for  none  but  such  as 
are  specified.  To  carry  these  out,  certain  powers  are  conferred 
upon  them  in  their  federal  and  partnership  capacity.  The  power  to 
borrow  money  for  local  purposes  is  not  one  of  these :  and  as  one 

10* 


114  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

State  has  no  power  to  borrow  money  for  another,  nor  all  the  States 
together  for  one  Stale,  there  is  hut  little  justice  in  calling  upon  one 
State  to  pay  the  debts  of  another,  or  on  all  the  States  to  pay  the 
debts  of  any  one  or  more  which  may  be  in  default.  There  is  this 
difference,  too,  between  the  Union  and  a  common  partnership,  that 
whereas  in  the  latter  one  member  of  the  firm  can  bind  all,  provided 
the  transaction  be  within  the  objects  of  the  partnership;  in  the  for- 
mer, it  is  competent  to  no  one  State  to  bind  the  rest,  even  in  matters 
common  to  all  the  States,  and  within  the  purview  of  the  objects  for 
which  they  are  united.  In  such  case  it  is  the  general  government 
alone  that  can  be  dealt  with,  as  the  sole  agent  and  representative  of 
the  Union.  If  any  one  gives  credit  to  it,  the  Union,  that  is  to  say, 
all  the  States,  are  responsible;  but  when  credit  is  extended  to  a 
particular  State,  it  is  to  that  State  alone  that  the  creditor  can  justly 
look  for  his  reimbursement." 

"I  am  aware,"  said  I,  "  that  the  objects  for  the  accomplishment 
of  which  the  money  was  borrowed,  were  matters  within  the 
exclusive  control  of  the  indebted  States  themselves  ;  and  that,  there- 
fore, the  credit  could  only  have  been  given  exclusively  to  them. 
But  you  must  admit  that  the  line  of  demarcation  between  local  and 
federal  powers,  and  local  and  federal  responsibility,  is  not  very  gene- 
rally understood  in  Europe." 

"  But,"  replied  he,  "  there  is  no  reason  why  the  inhabitants  of 
Delaware,  which  owes  nothing,  or  of  New  York,  which  pays  what  it 
owes,  should  pay  the  penalty  of  the  ignorance,  real  or  assumed,  of 
the  money-lenders  in  Europe,  who  chose  to  deal,  without  their 
knowledge,  or  without  getting  their  security,  with  the  State  of 
Mississippi.  The  terms  and  conditions  of  the  federal  compact  are 
no  secret.  They  have  been  patent  to  the  world  for  the  last  sixty 
years.  What  more  could  be  done  to  give  them  publicity  than  has 
been  done?  When  a  State  goes  into  the  money  market  to  borrow, 
she  does  not  do  so  under  the  shelter  of  a  secret  or  ambiguous  deed 
of  copartnership,  by  which  the  money-lender  may  be  deceived,  but 
as  a  member  of  a  confederacy,  bound  together  by  a  well-known 
instrument,  which  notoriously  confers  no  power  upon  her  in  bor- 
rowing money  to  pledge  the  credit  of  any  of  her  confederates. 
The  States  of  Germany  are  knit  together  in  one  federal  union  for 
certain  purposes,  but  their  common  responsibilities  terminate  when 
the  limits  of  these  purposes  are  reached.  The  borrowing  of  money 
for  local  purposes  is  not  one  of  the  objects  of  the  German  Con- 
federation. Would  it  be  competent,  then,  for  an  English  capitalist 
who  had  lent  money  to  Saxony,  which  she  omitted  to  return  him,  to 
call  Upon  Austria  or  Bavaria  to  make  good  his  loss?  And  the  same 
with  the  American  Union.  The  powers  and  responsibilities  of  the 
States  are,  or  should  be,  as  well  known'  to  the  capitalist  as  those  of 
the  States  of  the  German  Confederation.  And  in  truth,  there  is 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  115 

reason  to  believe  that  they  were  well  known  when  the  money  was 
advanced,  and  that  the  plea  of  ignorance  is  a  sham  plea,  preferred 
more  to  move  the  sympathies  than  to  appeal  to  ihe  justice  of  the 
other  States.  He  who  lent,  then,  to  Mississippi  or  Illinois,  on  the 
sole  responsibility  of  Mississippi  or  Illinois,  has  obviously  no  claim 
in  law,  or  in  equity,  against  any  Stale  but  Mississippi  or  Illinois.  If 
he  lent  on  what  he  considered  at  the  time  a  doubtful  security,  in  the 
hope  that,  should  that  security  fail  him,  the  othe^r  States,  which  had 
no  knowledge  of,  or  benefit  from,  the  transaction,  would  either  be 
moved  by  compassion  to  save  him  harmless,  or  shamed  by  a  false 
cry  into  so  doing,  his  conduct  was  not  such  as  would  bear  the  test  of 
a  rigid  scrutiny.  Such  a  course  is  as  questionable  as  lending  to  a 
man  of  doubtful  credit,  on  the  speculative  security  of  his  numerous 
friends." 

"  On  this  point,"  I  observed,  "  I  can  find  no  flaw  in  the  argument 
which  you  advance.  It  is  obvious  that,  when  a  man  lends  money 
upon  a  particular  security,  he  cannot  afterwards  look  for  its  repay- 
ment to  parties  whom  he  could  not  have  legally  or  morally  contem- 
plated as  involved  in  the  benefits  or  responsibilities  of  the  transaction 
at  the  time  of  its  occurrence.  Besides,  if  one  State  was  liable  for 
the  debts  of  another,  it  should  have  some  control  over  the  expendi- 
ture of  the  other.  And  when  we  consider  that  one  State  borrows 
money  for  the  construction  of  works,  which,  when  in  operation,  will 
injuriously  affect  similar  works  in  another,  it  would  be  especially  hard 
were  that  other  to  be  held  answerable  for  its  default.  And  so  with 
the  general  government.  It  has  no  control  over  local  expenditure; 
and  it  would  be  monstrous,  therefore,  to  make  it  responsible  for  local 
liabilities.  But  if  I  mistake  not,  the  project  of  the  general  Govern- 
ment assuming  the  State  debts  has  found  much  favour  even  in  this 
country." 

"  It  has,"  replied  he,"  though  not  as  a  matter  of  right,  but  simply 
as  one  of  expediency.  The  general  credit  was  affected  by  the 
misconduct  of  a  few  of  the  members  of  the  Union,  and  to  rescue 
all  from  an  odium  that  justly  attached  but  to  the  few,  the  proposition 
you  allude  to  was  made.  But  the  proposition  was,  not  so  much  in 
its  principle,  as  in  its  incidents,  one  to  which  the  solvent  and 
unindebted  States  could  not  agree ;  the  consideration  for  which  the 
assumption  was  to  be  made  being  one  in  which  they  were  as  much 
interested  as  the  insolvent  States  themselves.  They  could  not, 
therefore,  consent  to  a  proposal  which  would  have  virtually  taxed 
them  to  pay  a  portion  of  the  debt  of  the  delinquents.  It  has  thus,  for 
the  present,  been  abandoned,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  ere  it  is  again 
mooted,  the  defaulting  States  will  be  restored  to  solvency." 

Our  conversation,  which  embraced  .the  whole  subject,  and  of 
which  this  is  but  an  epitome,  was  here  interrupted  by  our  approach 
to  Natches.  My  mind  continued  for  some  time  to  dwell  upon  the 


116  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

subject,  which  the  more  I  learnt  regarding  it,  I  was  the  more  con- 
vinced was  misunderstood.  To  involve  the  whole  confederacy  in 
the  crimes  or  misfortunes  of  a  few  of  its  members  is  obviously 
unjust.  It  is  but  fair  that  a  wide  discrimination  should  be  made 
between  the  guilty  and  the  innocent.  This  can  only  be  done  by 
taking  the  States  separately,  and  dealing  out  our  judgments  in 
regard  to  each,  according  to  the  position  in  which  we  rind  it.  And, 
in  applying  this  rule,  let  us  bear  in  mind  that  they  are  divisible  into 
four  classes.  In  the  first,  Mississippi  is  alone  comprehended ;  for 
she  alone  has  repudiated,  although  she  has  not  been  so  graceless  as 
to  do  so  without  all  excuse.  The  second  comprehends  the  few 
States  whose  treasuries  have  been  bankrupt,  but  none  of  which 
have  ever  repudiated  their  obligations.  Some  of  these  have  resumed 
payment,  and  are  once  more  in  a  srate  of  perfect  solvency.  In  the 
third  class  are  embraced  the  majority  of  the  States,  and  such  as 
have  ever  been  solvent,  neither  repudiating  the  claims  against  them, 
nor  omitting  to  pay  them.  The  fourth  class  comprises  the  lew 
States  which  are  so  fortunate  as  to  be  entirely  free  from  public  debt. 
And  when  the  European  talks  of  the  American  people  doing 
justice  to  the  public  creditor — meaning  thereby  that  the  whole  Union 
should  saddle  itself  with  the  debts  of  a  few  of  its  members,  con- 
tracted with  the  knowledge  of  their  creditors,  upon  their  own  sole 
responsibility — he  should  remember  that  there  is  justice  also  on 
the  other  side,  and  that  the  people  of  Delaware  and  North  Carolina, 
who  owe  nothing,  and  those  of  New  York  and  other  States  who  are 
paying  what  they  do  owe,  cannot,  with  any  degree  of  propriety,  be 
called  upon  to  bear  the  burden  of  transactions  entered  into  by 
others  for  their  sole  benefit,  and  to  which  they  alone  were  parties. 
There  is  but  little  either  of  morality  or  justice  in  seeking  to  in- 
volve parties  in  the  responsibility  of  transactions  with  which  they 
have  had  nothing  whatever  to  do. 

And  in  dispensing  blame  to  the  parties  really  deserving  it,  it  is  riot 
always  to  the  inculpated  States  that  we  are  to  confine  our  censure. 
What  injured  them  was  precipitate  speculation.  This  is  promoted  as 
much  by  the  capitalist  as  by  the  borrower,  and  in  many  cases  more 
so.  The  time  was  when  nothing  but  a  foreign  investment  would 
satisfy  the  English  capitalist.  A  home  or  a  colonial  speculation 
stunk  in  his  nostrils;  nothing  but  that  which  was  foreign  Would 
satisfy  him.  The  foreigner  seeing  an  open  hand  with  a  full  purse  in 
it  extended  to  him,  was  tempted  to  grasp  at  it,  arid  his  appetite  for 
speculation  was  quickened  by  the  ease  with  which  he  obtained  the 
means  of  pandering  to  it.  At  this  very  time  our  magnificent  colo- 
nies in  North  America  were  demanding  accommodation,  but  could 
not  procure  it.  The  six  per  cent,  which  they  modestly  offered,  was 
refused  for  the  seven,  eight,  and  ten  per  cent,  offered  by  the  neighbour- 
ing States,  which  by  the  very  favouritism  thus  shown  them  were 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  117 

encouraged  to  endeavour  to  outrun  each  other  in  their  mad  career. 
They  are  truly  to  be  pitied  who,  having  had  no  hand  in  the  original 
transactions,  are  now  the  innocent  holders  of  the  bonds  which  have 
been  repudiated,  or  which  remain  unpaid.  But  they  can  only  justly 
look  for  their  indemnity  to  the  security  on  which  they  were  contented 
to  rely,  without  seeking  to  involve  others  in  their  misfortunes  who 
are  as  innocent  as  themselves. 

Credit  has  been  described  as  a  plant  of  tender  growth,  which  the 
slightest  breath  may  shrivel.  There  is  no  doubt  but  that  the  conduct 
of  some  of  its  members  occasioned  a  severe  shock  to  the  credit  of 
the  whole  Union.  For  a  time  all  the  States  were  treated  as  if,  with- 
out exception,  they  had  been  involved  in  a  common  delinquency, 
But  this  injustice  did  not  last  long,  and  the  solvent  States  are  being 
gradually  reinstated  in  their  former  credit  and  position.  And  even 
now,  as  permanent  investments,  many,  and  not  without  reason,  regard 
American  securities  as  preferable  to  all  others.  The  credit  of  the 
general  Government  is  at  present  much  more  in  vogue  than  that  of 
any  of  the  States;  but  as  permanent  investments,  the  securities  of 
the  Stales  are  to  be  preferred  to  those  of  the  general  Government. 
Should  the  Union  fall  to  pieces,  the  general  Government  will  be 
extinguished  in  the  crash,  but  the  States  will  preserve  their  identity 
whatever  may  become  of  the  Confederation.  And  notwithstanding 
the  stigma  which  for  some  time  has  unfortunately  attached  to  her 
name,  there  is  no  State  in  the  Union  which  can  offer  greater  induce- 
ments to  permanent  investment  than  Pennsylvania.  Her  resources 
are  greater  and  more  varied  than  those  of  any  of  her  confederates, 
and  her  future  wealth  will  depend  upon  their  development.  What 
these  resources  are  in  their  extent  and  their  variety,  and  how  far  her 
position  is  such  as  will  necessarily  call  them  into  speedy  and  active 
requisition,  will  be  inquired  into  in  a  subsequent  chapter. 

At  Natches,  which  is  one  of  the  largest  and  most  prosperous  towns 
in  the  State,  and  situated  mainly  on  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the 
river,  we  remained  but  a  sufficient  time  to  land  and  to  receive  pas- 
sengers, and  to  take  in  a  fresh  supply  of  fuel  and  provisions.  We  had 
already  stopped  at  several  roadside  stations,  as  they  might  be  called, 
for  the  purpose  of  replenishing  our  stock  of  wood,  the  quantity  con- 
sumed by  the  furnaces  being  enormous.  From  Natches  we 
proceeded  towards  Vicksburg,  also  in  the  State  of  Mississippi,  and 
about  100  miles  higher  up  the  river. 

The  name  of  this  place  suggested  at  once  to  my  mind  a  terrible 
incident,  of  which  some  years  ago  it  was  the  scene,  and  which 
strongly  illustrates  a  very  unfavourable  .feature  of  American  life  in 
the  Southwest.  The  gamblers  and  blacklegs,  who  had  made 
Natches  too  hot  to  hold  them,  made  the  town  of  Vicksburg  their 
head  quarters,  and  as  they  increased  in  numbers,  so  increased  in 
boldness,  and  carried  matters  with  so  high  a  hand,  as  for  a  time  to 


118  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

terrify  and  overawe  the  more  honestly  disposed  of  their  fellow- 
citizens.  The  evil  at  length  attained  a  magnitude  which  determined 
the  better  portion  of  the  inhabitants  at  all  hazards  to  put  it  down  ; 
arid  as  the  law  was  too  weak  to  reach  the  ruffians,  it  being  as  diffi- 
cult to  obtain  a  conviction  against  them  as  it  is  to  get  one  against  a 
repealer  in  Ireland,  a  summary  process  of  dealing  with  them  was 
resolved  upon.  A  number  of  them  were  accordingly  surprised  when 
engaged  in  their  nefarious  practices,  some  of  whom  escaped  in  the 
confusion,  leaving  about  half  a  dozen  in  custody.  These  were  con- 
veyed a  short  distance  out  of  the  town,  and,  after  a  summary  trial 
and  conviction  by  Lynch  law,  were  hanged  upon  the  adjacent  trees. 
Lawless  and  horrible  as  this  act  undoubtedly  was,  the  terrible  ven- 
geance which  it  inflicted  upon  a  set  of  blackguards,  who  harassed 
and  systematically  annoyed  the  community,  had  a  salutary  effect  for 
a  time;  the  survivors,  if  they  did  not  abandon  their  practices,  paying 
a  little  more  respect  to  public  opinion  in  their  mode  of  pursuing 
them.  The  effects  of  the  lesson  then  administered,  however,  have 
by  this  time  pretty  well  worn  off,  if  one  may  judge  from  the  numbers 
in  which  the  southern  portion  of  the  Mississippi  and  its  tributaries 
are  yet  infested  by  the  vagabonds  in  question,  and  the  openness  with 
which  they  are  beginning  again  to  prosecute  their  iniquitous 
vocation. 

The  excesses  thus  occasionally  committed  by  the  populace  in  the 
South  under  the  designation  of  Lynch  law,  are  much  to  be  deplored, 
although  they  are  almost  necessarily  incident  to  a  state  of  society  in 
which  public  opinion  is  yet  weak  and  but  equivocally  pronounced — 
in  which  the  law  is  feebly  administered,  and  which  exists  in  the 
midst  of  circumstances  less  favourable  than  those  by  which  we  are 
surrounded  for  the  enforcement  of  public  morality,  and  ihe  due  ad- 
ministration of  justice.  To  those  conversant  with  the  real  condition 
of  society  in  the  South-west,  the  wonder  is  not  so  much  that  Lynch 
law  has  been  so  frequently  resorted  to,  as  that  the  ordinary  law  has 
not  been  more  frequently  departed  from.  The  .population  of  the 
immense  areas  which  bound  ihe  Southern  Mississippi  on  either  side 
is  but  yet  scanty,  people  in  general  living  far  apart  from  each  other. 
Add  to  this  that  the  war  which  they  are  carrying  on,  each  in  his 
comparatively  isolated  position,  against  nature,  has  a  tendency  more 
or  less  to  bring  the  civilized  man  in  his  habits,  tastes,  and  impulses, 
nearer  to  the  savage,  and  to  impart  asperities  to  the  character  which 
are  rubbed  off  by  an  every  day  contact  with  society.  No  position 
that  is  not  actually  one  of  barbarism,  could  be  more  favorable  than 
that  of  the  western  pioneer  to  the  inculcation  of  the  law  of  might,  his 
life  being  not  only  a  constant  warfare  with  the  wilderness,  but  his 
safety,  from  the  nature  of  the  dangers  with  which  he  is  surrounded, 
chiefly  depending  upon  his  own  vigilance  and  presence  of  mind.  He 
is  thus  daily  taught  the  habit  of  self-reliance,  instead  of  looking  to 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  119 

society  for  his  security.  It  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  men 
so  circumstanced,  and,  as  it  were,  so  educated,  should  occasionally 
take  the  law  into  their  own  hands,  instead  of  resorting  for  justice  to 
tribunals  far  apart  from  them,  to  reach  and  attend  which  would  be 
accompanied  by  great  loss  of  time  and  money,  and  which  might 
after  all  fail  in  rendering  them  justice. 

In  the  Northern  and  Eastern  States  the  law  is  as  regularly  adminis- 
tered as  it  is  in  England,  and  life  and  property  are  as  safe  under  its  pro- 
tection as  they  are  in  any  country  within  the  pale  of  civilisation.  But 
most  of  these  States  have  been  long  settled,  the  wilderness  in  them  has 
been  reduced,  society  has  become  dense,  and  exists  in  the  midst  of  all 
the  appliances  of  civilisation  ;  its  members  can  rely  upon  each  other  for 
support  in  carrying  out  the  law,  and  they  prefer  the  security  of  society 
to  any  that  that  they  could  attain  for  themselves;  and,  which  is  very 
important,  their  tribunals  are  numerous,  respectable,  and  near  at 
hand.  From  a  people  so  situated  we  are  quite  right  in  exacting  a 
strict  conformity  to  the  practices  of  civilised  life.  But  when  we  go 
further,  and  exact  the  same  of  the  people  in  the  extreme  West  and 
Southwest,  we  either  forget  that  they  are  differently  circumstanced, 
or  deny  that  circumstances  have  any  influence  on  social  and  indivi- 
dual life.  Transplant  to  the  regions  beyond  the  Mississippi  a  colony 
of  the  most  polished  people,  either  from  Old  or  New  England,  and  let 
them  be  circumstanced  precisely  as  the  western  pioneers  are,  and 
how  long  would  they  retain  their  polish,  or  be  characterised  by  those 
amenities,  or  exercise  that  mutuaJ  reliance  upon  each  other,  which 
marked  their  life  and  habits  in  their  former  abode  1  Bring  the 
polished  man  in  contact  with  savage  nature,  which  he  is  called  upon 
daily  to  subdue,  that  he  may  obtain  his  daily  bread,  and  the  one  must 
succumb  to  the  other,  or  both  will  undergo  a  change.  As  man  civi- 
lises the  wilderness,  the  wilderness  more  or  less  brutalizes  him.  In 
thus  elevating  nature  he  degrades  himself.  And  thus  it  is  with  the 
pioneers  of  civilisation  in  the  American  wilds.  Generally  speaking, 
they  have  not  had  the  advantage  of  a  previous  polish.  Born  and 
brought  up  in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness,  they  fly  rather  than  court 
the  approach,  of  civilisation.  They  care  little  for  the  open  fields 
which  their  own  labour  ,has  redeemed  ;  they  love  the  recesses  of  the 
forest,  and  regularly  retire  before  it  as  population  advances  upon 
them.  This  hardy  belt  of  pioneers  is  like  the  rough  bark  which 
covers  and  protects  the  wood,  and  serves  as  a  shield  under  shelter 
of  which  the  less  hardy  and  adventurous  portions  of  the  community 
encroach  upon  the  wilderness.  To  expect  them  rigidly  to  conform 
to  all  the  maxims  of  civilised  life  would  be  but  to  expect  civilisation  to 
flourish  in  the  lap  of  barbarism.  Even  yet,  along  the  borders  of  con- 
terminous countries  which  we  call  civilised,  how  often  do  we  find 
lawlessness  and  violence  prevailing  to  a  deplorable  extent!  Arid  is 
our  sense  of  propriety  to  be  so  greatly  shocked  when  we  find  them 


120  THE   WESTERN    WORLD, 

occasionally  manifesting  themselves  upon  the  American  border, 
where  the  domain  of  civilisation  is  conterminous  with  that  of  the 
savage,  the  buffalo,  and  the  bear?  Even  excess  committed  in  these 
remote,  wild,  and  thinly  peopled  regions  is  to  be  discountenanced 
and  deplored ;  but  we  should  not  visit  them  with  that  severity  of 
judgment  which  such  conduct  amongst  ourselves  would  entail  upon 
those  who  were  guilty  of  it.  As  the  wilderness  disappears,  and  the 
country  becomes  cultivated,  the  civilisation  of  nature  will  react  bene- 
ficially upen  those,  or  the  descendants  of  those,  who  were  instrumental 
in  rescuing  her  from  the  barbarism  in  which  she  was  shrouded  ; 
population  will  become  denser  and  more  refined,  and  man  will  rely 
more  upon  his  social  than  his  individual  resources.  When  this 
occurs,  and  the  portion  of  the  country  now  considered  is  thus 
brought  within  the  pale  of  civilisation,  we  may  exact,  and  exact  with 
justice,  from  its  people  a  strict  amenability  to  ail  the  requirements 
of  civilised  life.  But  before  it  occurs,  we  should  riot  overlook  their 
circumstances  in  dealing  with  their  conduct.  Even  in  the  most 
civilised  communities  departures  are  sometimes  deemed  necessary 
from  the  ordinary  principles  by  which  society  is  regulated,  and 
from  the  ordinary  safeguards  by  which  it  is  secured.  We  need  not 
be  surprised  if  exceptions  to  general  principles  occur  where  society 
is  as  yet  but  in  a  state  of  formation ;  and  it  may  be  that,  in  the  semi- 
civilised  regions  of  America,  the  dread  tribunal  of  Judge  Lynch 
may  sometimes  be  as  necessary,  as,  in  civilised  life,  are  states  of 
siege,  and  the  supercession  of  the  ordinary  tribunals  of  justice  by 
martial  law. 

A  better  order  of  things  is  now  making  its  appearance  along  the 
banks  of  the  lower  Mississippi,  where  public  opinion  is  fast  gaining 
ground  upon  the  lawless  disturbers  of  the  public  peace.  In  some 
cases  the  carrying  of  arms  is  now  forbidden — a  most  prudent  measure, 
as  it,  frequently  happens  that  to  be  prepared  for  war  is  the  very  worst 
guarantee  for  peace.  Society  is  gradually  feeling  its  strength,  and 
once  convinced  of  it,  will  know  how  to  take  measures  for  its  own 
security.  The  first  and  worst  epoch  in  its  history  is  past.  It  has 
survived  a  perilous  infancy,  and  is  now  advancing  to  maturity;  and 
the  moral  aberrations  of  which,  in  its  youth,  it  may  have  been 
guilty,  may  yet  be  to  it  as  the  complicated  diseases  of  childhood  are 
to  the  boy,  in  preparing  him  for  becoming  the  healthy  man. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  121 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI. AGRICULTURE  AND  AGRICULTURAL 

INTEREST  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

Vicksburg. — The  Walnut  Hills — The  Arkansas  and  the  Tennessee. — Variety 
of  Craft  met  with  upon  the  River. — Difference  between  the  two  banks. — 
Memphis. — Posthumous  Adventures  of  Picayune^  Walker. — Conversations  on 
Slavery. — A  Race. — Days  and  Nights  on  the  River. — The  Mouth  of  the  Ohio. 
Change  of  Scene. — St.  Louis. — Who  are  the  Yankees] — Description  of  St. 
Louis. — Its  Commercial  Advantages  and  Prospects — The  American  Prairie. 
— Agriculture  and  Agricultural  Interest  of  America. — Five  great  Classes  of 
Productions. — Five  great  Regions  corresponding  to  them. — The  Pasturing 
Region.; — The  Wheat  and  Tobacco  growing  Regions. — The  Cotton  and  Sugar 
Regions. — Cost  at  which  Wheat  can  be  raised  on  Prairie  land. — The  surplus 
Agricultural  Products  of  America. 

ON  leaving  Vicksburg,  which  is~charmingly  situated  on  a  high 
sloping  bank,  formed  by  the  bluffs  into  what  appears  to  be  a  series 
of  natural  terraces,  which  render  it  more  accessible  than  Natches, 
we  steamed  rapidly  up  the  river,  having  as  yet,  although  about  four 
hundred  miles  from  New  Orleans,  accomplished  but  one-third  of  our 
journey.  The  Walnut  hills,  which  come  rolling  down  to  the  water's 
edge  immediately  above  Vicksburg,  are  exceedingly  picturesque, 
mantled  as  they  are  to  the  top  in  a  rich  covering  of  grass  and  foliage. 
Beyond  them  the  right  bank  sinks  again,  and  presents  to  the  eye, 
for  many  miles,  an  unbroken  succession  of  extensive  and  flourishing 
cotton  plantations. 

We  soon  left  the  State  of  Mississippi  behind  us,  and  had  that  of 
Tennessee  on  our  right,  and  for  some  distance  Arkansas  on  our  left. 
Both  these  States  are  named  from  the  chief  rivers  flowing  through 
them  to  swell  the  volume  of  the  Mississippi,  the  Arkansas  directly, 
the  Tennessee  indirectly,  by  uniting  with  the  Ohio.  Both  streams 
are  upwards  of  1,200  miles  long,  and  navigable  to  steamers  for 
hundreds  of  miles.  The  Arkansas,  like  the  Red  River,  rises  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  and  after  flowing  in  a  south-easterly  direction 
through  the  State  to  which  it  gives  its  name,  enteis  the  Mississippi 
on  its  west  bank.  We  had  already  passed  the  junction  on  our  left, 
as  we  had  also  the  mouths  of  several  other  rivers  entering  on  the 
same  side,  which  in  Europe  would  be  considered  first-class  streams. 
It  is  almost  impossible  to  describe  the  variety  of  craft  which  we 

VOL.  II.— 11 


122  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

met  upon  the  river.  We  passed  and  saluted  steamers  innumerable, 
generally  crowded  with  passengers.  Others  were  so  overloaded  with 
cotton  bales,  as  to  present  more  the  appearance  and  proportions  of  a 
long  hayrick  than  of  any  other  known  terrestrial  object.  There  were 
flat  boats  innumerable,  precipitous  at  the  sides,  and  quite  square  at 
either  end,  sometimes  with  an  apology  for  a  sail  hoisted  upon  them  and 
sometimes  with  an  oar  out  on  either  side  to  help  them  to  drop  down 
with  the  strong  heavy  current.  It  is  not  many  years  since  this  was  the 
only  craft  known  on  the  Mississippi,  being  constructed  with  sufficient 
strength  to  bear  the  voyage  down,  for  they  never  attempt  the 
re-ascent  of  the  stream.  When  they  have  served  their  purpose,  on 
reaching  their  destination  they  are  broken  up,  and  the  materials 
disposed  of  to  the  best  advantage.  Before  the  introduction  of 
steamers,  travellers  had  to  ascend  into  the  interior  by  land.  Then 
again  we  would  meet  a  family  emigrating  from  one  part  of  the  valley 
to  another,  by  dropping  down  in  a  rudely  constructed  barge,  which 
would  yet  be  broken  up  and  converted  into  a  hut  or  "  shanty"  on 
shore.  There  were  floating  cabins  too,  which  would  only  have  to  be 
dragged  ashore  on  reaching  their  destination.  And  then  came 
floating  "  stores,"  containing  calicos,  cloths,  pots,  pans,  groceries  and 
household  wares  of  all  descriptions, — the  pedlars  of  these  regions 
very  wisely  conforming  themselves  to  the  nature  of  their  great  high- 
ways. And  instead  of  caravans,  as  with  us,  upon  wheels,  there  were 
shows  and  exhibitions  of  all  kinds  afloat,  in  some  of  which  Macbeth 
was  performed,  Duncan  being  got  rid  of  by  throwing  him  into  the 
river  instead  of  stabbing  him.  Here  and  there  too,  a  solitary  canoe 
and  small  boat  would  cross  our  track,  as  would  also  occasionally  a 
raft,  some  of  the  timber  constituting  which  may  have  been  purchased, 
but  all  of  which  the  raftsman  undoubtedly  intended  to  sell.  In  short, 
it  was  a  source  of  amusement  to  us  to  watch  the  varied  and  generally 
unshapely  contrivances  in  the  way  of  craft,  many  of  them  laden 
with  live  stock,  which  the  "  Father  of  Waters"  bore  upon  his 
bosom. 

All  the  way  from*  Baton  Rouge,  in  Louisiana,  the  scenery  on  our 
right  was  more  or  less  varied  by  gentle  undulations,  sometimes 
attaining  the  dignity  of  hills  ;  whilst  the  river,  with  occasional  gaps, 
some  of  which  extended  for  many  miles,  was  lined  by  a  succession 
of  bluffs,  whose  different  heights  and  forms  gave  constant  novelty  to 
the  scene.  In  some  places  they  rose  over  the  water  for  several  hun- 
dreds of  feet,  a  low  ledge  of  land  generally  intervening,  where  they 
were  highest  between  them  and  the  river.  It  is  on  these  ledges 
that  the  lower  portions  of  the  chief  towns  on  this  bank  are  built. 
The  cliffs,  when  the  water  is  in  direct  contact  with  them,  are  soon 
worn  away  beneath,  when  the  superincumbent  mass  gives  way, 
forming  the  ledges  in  question.  Trjese  again  are  in  time  washed 
away  by  the  river,  when  the  cliffs  are  again  attacked,  and  with  the  same 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  123 

result.  The  cliffs  continue,  with  more  or  less  interruption,  nearly 
the  whole  of  the  way  up  to  the  Ohio.  Being  generally  formed  of 
clay  or  sand,  they  are  in  some  places  washed  by  the  rains  and 
moulded  by  the  winds  into  the  most  fantastic  forms,  sometimes  re- 
sembling feudal  castles  pitched  upon  inaccessible  rocks,  and  at  others 
being  as  irregular  and  grotesque  as  a  splintered  iceberg.  Very  dif- 
ferent is  the  character  of  the  other  bank.  The  whole  way  from  New 
Orleans  up  to  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  it  is,  with  a  few  trifling 
exceptions,  one  unbroken,  unmitigated  and  monotonous  flat.  On 
both  sides  the  land  is  extremely  rich,  the  cane  brake  and  cypress 
swamp,  however,  being  frequent  features  on  the  west.  There  are 
many  "  Edens"  on  this  side  of  the  river  ;  but  the  general  character 
of  the  soil  upon  it,  from  the  delta  to  its  sources,  is  of  the  most  fertile 
description,  the  spots  unfit  for  human  habitation  being  rare  excep- 
tions to  the  rule.  At  regular  distances  are  wood  stations  on  project- 
ing points  of  land,  the  wood  being  obtained  from  the  forest  behind, 
cut  upon  the  spot  by  negroes,  and  corded  and  ready  to  be  taken  on 
board  as  fuel  by  the  steamers  as  they  pass.  The  river  on  this  side 
being  in  contact  with  the  very  soil,  which  is  soft  and  alluvial,  its 
greatest  encroachments  are  made  upon  this  bank.  You  sometimes 
pass  groves  of  trees  which  a  few  years  ago  had  stood  inland,  with 
their  roots  now  half  exposed,  and  themselves  ready  to  fall  into  the 
water,  some  to  drift  out  to  sea,  and  others  to  become  snags,  and  ren- 
der perilous  the  navigation  of  the  river.  Now  and  then,  too,  you 
make  up  with  groups  of  cypresses  and  palmettos,  festooned  with 
Spanish  moss;  and  sometimes  with  clumps  of  the  Pride  of  India, 
with  wild  vines  clinging  to  their  trunks  and  branches.  Here  and 
there  also  you  see,  overhanging  the  stream,  the  wreck  of  what  was 
once  a  noble  forest  tree,  now  leafless  and  barkless,  holding  out  its 
stiff  and  naked  arms  ghastly  in  the  sun,  telling  a  mournful  tale  to 
the  passer  by — the  blanched  and  repulsive  skeleton  of  that  which 
was  once  a  graceful  form  of  life.  Were  the  east  bank  similar  to  the 
west,  the  Mississippi  would,  in  a  scenic  point  of  view,  be  to  the 
traveller  dreary  enough. 

As  you  ascend  it  you  still  find  the  river  pursuing  the  same  serpen- 
tine course  as  below.  The  bends  are  not  so  great,  but  quite  as 
consecutive,  it  being  seldom  that  the  stream  is  found  pursuing  a 
straight  course  for  many  miles  together.  We  could  discern  on  either 
side,  as  we  proceeded,  many  traces  of  deserted  channels;  and  some 
of  these  are  to  be  seen  in  parts  from  thirty  to  forty  miles  from  the 
present  course  of  the  stream. 

As  we  approached  the  town  of  Memphis  in  the  State  of  Tennes- 
see, the  bluffs  on  the  right  became  more  consecutive,  loftier,  and 
more  imposing  in  their  effect.  Near  the  town  they  are  in  parts 
almost  as  continuous  as,  though  higher  and  of  a  darker  colour  than, 
the  cliffs  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Ramsgate  :  whilst  roads  are  here 


124  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

and  there  cut  through  them  down  to  the  water's  edge,  like  the  deep 
artificial  gullies  which  are  so  numerous  along  the  Foreland. 
Memphis  is  situated  on  the  top  of  a  very  high  bluff,  so  that  part  of 
the  town  only  can  be  seen  from  the  river.  There  is  a  small  group 
of  houses  below  the  cliff  at  the  landing-place,  where  several  steamers 
were  lying  as  we  approached.  In  addition  to  this  Memphis  in 
Tennessee,  and  that  which  is  or  was  in  Egypt,  there  is  another 
Memphis  in  Mississippi,  apropos  to  which  I  overheard  in  New  Or- 
leans the  following  story  told  by  one  negro  to  another  : — 

"  You  come  from  Miss'sippi,  don't  you  Ginger  1"  said  the 
narrator,  who  was  a  fine  negro  and  had  been  iu  the  North. 

"  To  be  sure  I  do,  Sam,"  said  Ginger. 

"  1  tell  you  what  it  is  then,  you  have  no  chance  no  how  comin' 
from  that  State." 

"  What  are  you  drivin'  at?"  asked  Ginger. 

"  Isn't  that  the  repoodiatin'  State?"  demanded  Sam. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Ginger,  "  but  it  wasn't  the  coloured  folks,  it 
was  the  white  men  did  it." 

"  Well,  you  may  have  a  chance  if  you  die  in  Loosiany,  but 
don't  die  in  Miss'sippi  if  you  can  h«lp  it,"  said  Sam  in  a  confidential 
tone. 

"  I  won't  die  no  where  if  I  can  help  it,"  was  Ginger's  response. 

"  Did  you  know  Picayune  Walker,  who  lived  to  Memphis?"  asked 
Sam. 

"  Know'd  him  well,"  said  Ginger,  '«  but  him  dead  now." 

"  Well,"  said  Sam,  "  I  was  to  Cincinnati  when  he  died.  De 
Sunday  after  I  went  to  meetin'.  De  color'd  gemman  who  was 
preachin'  tell  us  that  Picayune  Walker,  when  he  die,  went  up  to 
heaben  and  ask  Peter  to  let  him  in.  '  Who's  dat  knockin'  at  de 
door?'  said  Peter.  '  It's  me,  to  be  sure;  don't  you  know  a  gemman 
when  you  see  him?'  said  Picky.  '  How  should  1  know  you?'  said 
Peter,  '  what's  your  name?' '  Picayune  Walker,'  he  said.  '  VVell  Massa 
Walker,  what  you  \yant  ?'  Peter  then  ask,  *  I  want  to  get  in,  to  be 
sure,'  said  Picky.  '  Where  you  from,  Massa  Walker?'  den  ask 
Peter.  '  From  Memphis,'  said  Picky.  '  In  Tennessee?'  ask  Peter. 
'  No,  Memphis'  Miss'sippi,'  said  Massa  Walker.  '  O,  den-you  may 
come  in,'  said  Peter,  a  openin'  o'de  dore;  'you'll  be  somethin'  new 
for  'em  to  look  at,  it's  so  long  since  any  one's  been  here  from 
Miss'sippi." 

"Him  bery  lucky  for  a  white  man  from  dat  'ere  State"  was 
Ginger's  only  remark. 

On  leaving  Memphis,  I  had  a  long  conversation  with  a  southerner 
on  board,  on  the  subject  of  slavery.  Nothing  can  be  more  erroneous 
than  the  opinion  entertained  and  promulgated  by  many,  that  this  is 
a  forbidden  topic  of  conversation  in  tire  south.  1  never  had  the  least 
hesitation  in  expressing  myself  freely  on  the  subject  in  any  of  the 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  125 

Southern  States,  whenever  an  opportunity  offered  of  adverting  to  it; 
nor  did  I  find  the  southerners  generally  anxious  to  elude  it.  Much 
depends  upon  the  mode  in  which  it  is  introduced  and  treated.  There 
are  some  so  garrulous  that  they  must  constantly  be  referring  to  it, 
and  in  a  manner  offensive  to  the  feelings  of  those  to  whom  it  is  intro- 
duced. It  cannot  be  denied  but  that  the  suicidal  and  over-zealous 
conduct  of  the  abolitionists  has  made  the  Southerners  somewhat 
sensitive  upon  the  subject;  and  they  are  not  very  likely  to  listen 
with  complacency  to  one  who,  in  discussing  it,  manifests  the  spirit 
and  intentions  of  a  propagandist.  But  if  calmly  and  temperately  dealt 
with,  there  are  few  in  the  South  who  will  shrink  from  the  discussion 
of  it;  and  you  find,  when  it  is  the  topic  of  discourse,  that  the  only 
point  at  issue  between  you  is  as  to  the  means  of  its  eradication. 

Having  strolled  with  Mr.  D towards  the  prow  of  the  boat,  I 

found  myself  close  to  where  some  negroes  were  busily  at  work  at- 
tending to  the  furnaces.  Having  replenished  them,  they  set  them- 
selves down  upon  the  huge  blocks  of  wood  which  constituted  their 
fuel,  and  rubbed  the  perspiration  off  their  faces,  which  were  shining 
with  it  as  if  they  had  been  steeped  in  oil. 

"  See  de  preacher  dat  come  aboard  when  we  were  a  woodin'  up 
at  Memphis'?"  asked  one  named  Jim  of  another  who  answered  to 
the  imperial  name  of  Caesar. 

CaBsar  replied  in  the  affirmative,  pouting  his  .huge  lips,  and  de- 
manding of  Jim  to  know  if  he  thought  that  he  Caesar  was  blind. 

"  He  just  marry  a  rich  wife  to  Memphis,  de  lady  wid  him,"  said 
Jim  disregarding  the  interrogatory. 

"  Dey  all  do  de  same,"  observed  Caesar.  "  Dey  keep  a  preachin' 
to  oders  not  to  mind  de  flesh  pots,  but  it's  only  to  grab  de  easier  at 
dem  demselves." 

"  Pile  on  de  wood,  Jim,"  continued  Caesar,  noticing  that  the  fur- 
naces were  once  more  getting  low.  In  a  few  seconds  their  ponderous 
iron  doors  were  again  closed,  and  they  blazed  and  roared  and  crack- 
led over  the  fresh  fuel  with  which  they  were  supplied. 

"What  you  sayin'  about  Massa  Franklin  few  minutes  ago?^" 
asked  Jim  as  soon  as  they  were  again,  seated. 

"  Dat  he  took  fire  from  heaben,"  replied  Coasar. 

"  From  de  oder  place  more  like,"  said  Jim,  in  a  tone  of  ignorant 
incredulity. 

Caesar  thereupon  rolled  his  eyes  about  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
looked  the  caricature  of  offended  dignity.  "  Will  you  never  larn 
nothin'?"  said  he  at  last,  regarding  his  companion  with  contemp- 
tuous pity. 

"  Well,  how  did  he  do  it?  "  asked  Jim. 

"  Wid  a  kite  to  be  sure,"  said  Caesar,  getting  very  unnecessarily 
into  a  passion.  Jim  still  looked  provokingly  incredulous.  "I  tell 

11* 


12G  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

you,  wid  a  kite,"  continued  Caesar,  hoping  to  make  himself  more 
intelligible  by  repetition. 

"But  how  wid  a  kite?"  asked  Jim,  making  bold  to  put  the 
query. 

"  Don't  you  see  yet  ?  "  said  Caesar ;  "  he  tied  a  locofoco  match  to 
it  afore  he  sent  it  up,  to  be  sure." 

"Ah!"  ejaculated  Jim,  getting  new  light  upon  the  subject,  "and 
lighted  it  at  de  sun,  didn't  he?3' 

"  He  couldn't  get  at  de  sun,  for  I  told  you  afore  it  was  cloudy, 
didn't  I  ?  "  observed  Caesar. 

"  Well  den,  how  light  de  match?"  asked  Jim,  fairly  puzzled. 

"  De  cloud  rub  agin  it,"  said  Caesar,  with  the  air  of  one-conscious 
of  imparting  to  another  a  great  secret.  But  his  equanimity  was  again 
disturbed  by  the  painful  thought  of  his  companion's  obtusity,  and 
when  he  called  upon  him  once  more  to  "  pile  on  de  wood,"  it  was  in 
connexion  with  a  friendly  intimation  to  him  that  he  was  "  only  fit  to 
be  a  brack  man." 

At  this  moment  an  ejaculation  of  "  Mind  your  fires,  there! "  pro- 
ceeded from  the  captain,  who  had  approached,  and  was  now  stand- 
ing on  the  promenade  deck  between  the  funnels,  and  looking 
anxiously  forward  at  some  object  in  advance  of  us.  On  turning  to 
ascertain  what  it  was,  I  perceived  a  steamer  which  had  left  Memphis 
on  its  way  up  to  Louisville  about  ten  minutes  before  we  did.  She 
was  going  at  half  speed  when  I  first  observed  her,  but  immediately 
put  all  steam  on.  I  at  once  divined  what  was  to  take  place.  The 
firemen  seemed  instinctively  to  understand  it,  as  they  immediately 
redoubted  their  efforts  to  cram  the  furnaces  with  fuel.  By  the  time 
we  were  abreast  of  the  "  Lafayette,"  for  that  was  our  rival's  name, 
she  had  regained  her  full  headway,  and  the  race  commenced  with  as 
fair  a  start  as  could  well  be  obtained.  Notwithstanding  the  known 
dangers  of  such  rivalry,  the  passengers  on  both  boats  crowded 
eagerly  to  the  quarter-deck  to  witness  the  progress  of  the  race,  each 
group  cheering  as  its  own  boat  seemed  to  be  leading  the  other  by 
ever  so  little.  By  this  time  the  negroes  became  almost  frantic  in 
their  efforts  to  generate  the  steam  ;  so  much  so  that  at  one  time  I 
thought  that  from  throwing  wood  into  the  furnaces,  they  would  have 
taken  to  throwing  in  one  another.  But  a  short  time  before  upwards 
of  two  hundred  human  beings  had  been  hurried  into  eternity  by  the 
explosion  of  a  boiler ;  but  the  fearful  incident  seemed  for  the  moment 
to  be  forgotten,  or  its  warnings  to  be  disregarded,  in  the  eagerness 
with  which  passengers  and  crew  pressed  forward  to  witness  the  race. 
I  must  confess  I  yielded  to  the  infection,  and  was  as  anxious  a  spec- 
tator of  the  contest  as  any  on  board.  They  were  a  few  timid  elderly 
gentlemen  and  ladies,  who  kept  aloof;  but  with  this  exception,  the 
captain  of  each  boat  had  the  moral  strength- of  his  cargo  with  him. 
For  many  minutes  the  two  vessels  kept  neck  and  neck,  and  so  close 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  127 

to  each  other,  that  an  explosion  on  board  either  would  have  calamit- 
ously affected  the  other.  At  length,  arid  when  there  still  appeared  to 
be  no  probability  of  a  speedy  decision,  I  perceived  a  reaction  com- 
mencing amongst  those  around  me,  and  on  the  name  of  the  "Helen 
McGregor"  and  the  "Moselle,"  two  ill-fated  boats,  being  whis- 
pered amongst  them,  many  retired  to  the  stern,  as  far  from  the 
boilers  as  they  could,  whilst  others  began  to  remonstrate,  and  even 
to  menace. 

"  How  can  I  give  in?"  asked  the  captain,  in  a  tone  of  vexation. 

"Run  him  on  that  'ere  snag,  and  be  d d  to  him,"  suggested 

the  mate,  who  was  standing  by, 

The  snag  was  about  two  hundred  yards  ahead,  just  showing  his 
black  crest  above  the  water.  It  was  the  trunk  of  a  huge  tree,  the 
roots  of  which  had  sunk  and  taken  hold  of  the  soil  at  the  bottom  ; 
about  eight  inches  of  the  trunk,  which  lay  in  a  direction  slanting 
with  the  current,  projecting  above  the  surface.  From  the  position 
which  they  thus  assume  snags  are  more  dangerous  to  steamers  as- 
cending than  to  those  descending  the  current.  In  the  latter  case, 
they  may  press  them  under  and  glide  safely  over  them;  but  in  the 
former,  the  chances  are,  if  they  strike,  that  they  will  be  perforated 
by  them,  and  sunk.  They  are  the  chief  sources  of  danger  in  navi- 
gating the  Mississippi.  The  captain  immediately  took  the  hint,  and 
so  shaped  his  course  as  to  oblige  the  rival  boat  to  sheer  off  a  little 
to  the  right.  This  brought  her  in  a  direct  line  with  the  snag,  to 
avoid  which  she  had  to  make  a  sharp,  though  a  short  detour.  It 
sufficed,  however,  to  decide  the  race,  the  "  Niobe"  immediately 
gaining  on  the  "  Lafayette"  by  more  than  a  length.  The  latter,  thus 
fairly  jockeyed  out  of  her  object,  gave  up  the  contest  and  dropped 
astern.  There  are  certainly  laws  against  this  species  of  racing  ;  but 
the  Mississippi  runs  through  so  many  jurisdictions  that  it  is  not  easy 
to  put  them  in  force.  Besides,  it  was  evident  to  me,  from  what  I 
then  saw,  that,  in  most  cases,  passengers  and  crew  are  equally  par- 
ticipes  criminis. 

We  had  now  been  upwards  of  three  days  and  three  nights  upon 
the  river,  which  had  varied  but  little  in  width,  apparent  volume,  or 

feneral  appearance,  since  we  first  made  the  bluffs  at  Baton  Rouge, 
t  was  curious  to  awake  every  morning  upon  a  scene  resembling  in 
everything  but  a  few  of  its  minute  details  that  on  which  you  had 
closed  your  eyes  the  previous  night,  and  with  a  consciousness  that 
you  were  still  afloat  upon  the  same  stream ;  and  that,  whilst  asleep, 
you  had  not  been  at  rest,  but  steaming  the  entire  night  against  the 
current,  at  the  rate  of  from  eight  to  ten  miles  per  hour. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  fifth  day  we  were  coasting  the  low  shore 
of  Kentucky  on  our  right,  with  the  State  of  Missouri  on  our  left; 
and  early  on  the  morning  of  the  sixth,  were  off  the  mouth  of  the 
Ohio.  As  we  crossed  the  spacious  embouchure,  there  was  one 


128  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

steamer  from  St.  Louis,  turning  into  the  Ohio,  to  ascend  it  to  Pitts- 
burg,  900  miles  up ;  and  another,  which  had  descended  it  from 
Cincinnati,  just  leaving  it,  and  heading  down  the  Mississippi  for 
New  Orleans,  one  thousand  miles  below.  No  incident  could  have 
occurred  better  fitted  to  impress  the  mind  with  the  vastness  of  these 
great  natural  highways  and  their  utility  to  the  enormous  region 
which  they  fertilize  and  irrigate.  The  Ohio  enters  the  Mississippi 
on  its  east  bank,  between  the  States  of  Kentucky  and  Illinois,  and 
about  1,100  miles  frofrn  its  mouth.  St.  Louis  is  200  miles  farther 
up  the  Mississippi,  on  the  opposite  or  Missouri  bank.  In  passing 
the  Ohio,  we  were  for  a  few  minutes  in  clear  and  limpid  water ; 
quite  a  contrast,  in  this  respect,  to  the  turgid  and  muddy  volume 
with  which  it  mingled.  Several  buckets  were  let  down  by  the  crew, 
and  many  passengers  took  the  opportunity  of  regaling  themselves 
with  a  draft  of  pure  water.  The  Mississippi  water,  turgid  though  it 
be,  is  not  considered  unwholesome,  and  those  long  accustomed  to  it 
prefer  it  to  any  other.  Opposite  the  northern  bank  of  the  Ohio,  the 
line  where  the  two  currents  mingle  is  distinctly  traceable  for  some 
distance  into  the  Mississippi.  The  scenery  at  the  confluence  is 
characteristic,  and  the  country  on  all  hands  surpassingly  rich. 

Immediately  above  the  Ohio,  the  scene  underwent  a  considerable 
change.  The  Illinois  shore  on  the  right  was  not  without  its  share 
of  bluffs;  but  the  greatest  number  for  the  rest  of  the  way  to  St. 
Louis,  as  also  the  loftiest  and  most  imposing  on  the  river,  were  now 
on  the  west  bank.  Not  far  from  St.  Louis  they  exhibit  themselves 
in  a  curious  succession  of  architectural  resemblances. 

Early  on  the  morning  of  the  seventh  day,  having  escaped  snags, 
explosions,  alligators,  and  all  the  other  perils,  real  and  fabulous,  of 
the  Mississippi,  we  reached  the  city  of  St.  Louis,  having  thus  ac- 
complished an  inland  journey  upon  one  and  the  same  stream  of 
1,200  miles. 

"  Take  care  of  him  ;  he's  a  Yankee,  and  hasn't  come  here  from 
New  York  for  nothjn' :"  was  a  piece  of  advice,  in  reference  to  some 
unknown  entity,  which  I  overheard  one  passenger  give  to  another, 
as  we  were  stepping  ashore. 

"  In  England,"  I  observed  to  Mr.  D ,  "  we  are  accustomed  to 

apply  the  term  Yankee  to  Americans  generally  ;•  and  it  seems  rather 
odd  to  me  to  hear  one  American  apply  the  epithet  to  another,  in  a 
tone  which  seemed  to  imply  that  he  did  not  come  under  the  desig- 
nation himself." 

"  Here,"  said  Mr.  D ,  in  explanation,  "  they  call  all  Yankees 

who  come  from  the  North.  But  'if  you  ask  a  New  Yorker  who  are 
the  Yankees,  he  will  refer  you  to  New  England.  In  many  parts  of 
New  England,  again,  you  will  be  referred  to  Boston,  as  their  locus 
in  quo,  but  the  Bostonians  decline  the  honour  of  harbouring  them, 
and  refer  you  to  the  rural  districts  of  New  Hampshire.  And  with- 


THE  WESTERN   WORLD.  129 

out  entering  into  nice  distinctions  as  to  what  constitutes  a  Yankee, 
there  is  no  doubt  that  it  is  in  the  last-mentioned  localities  that  the 
most  genuine  specimens  are  to  be  found." 

St.  Louis  is  a  most  striking  town  as  seen  from  the  river.  The 
ground  on  which  it  is  built  slopes  gently  up  from  the  water,  its 
flatter  portion  being  occupied  by  the  business  part  of  the  town  which 
adjoins  the  quays.  For  some  distance  the  river  is  lined  with  piles 
of  lofty  and  massive  store  warehouses,  indicating  the  existence  of  an 
extensive  "  heavy  business."  The  wharves  are  thronged  with  craft 
of  different  kinds,  but  from  the  inland  position  of  the  town  the 
steamers  greatly  predominate.  The  city  is  handsomely  built,  chiefly 
of  brick  ;  and  for  comfort,  elegance,  and  general  accommodation, 
few  establishments  in  the  United  States  can  compare  with  the 
Planters'  Hotel,  in  which  we  took  up  our  quarters.  The  principal 
streets  run  parallel  wiih  the  river,  being  rectangularly  intersected  by 
others  which  run  back  from  it.  The  country  behind  it  is  rich  and 
picturesque,  whilst  its  river  prospect  is  imposing,  both  from  the 
character  of  the  foreground,  and  the  bold  sweeping  lines  of  the 
Illinois  bank  opposite.  Within  its  precincts,  particularly  about  the 
quays,  and  in  Front  and  First  streets,  it  presents  a  picture  of  bustle, 
enterprise,  and  activity ;  whilst  on  every  hand  the  indications  of 
rapid  progress  are  as  numerous  as  they  are  striking. 

The  site  occupied  by  St.  Louis  is  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  about  twenty  miles  below  the  entrance  of  the  Missouri 
into  it.  Twenty  miles  above  that  again,  the  Illinois,  after  pursuing  a 
course  of  many  hundred  miles,  enters  the  Mississippi  on  its  east 
bank.  The  junction  of  the  Ohio,  opening  up  a  pathway  eastward 
to  the  Alleghany  mountains,  is,  as  we  have  already  seen,  but  200 
miles  below  ;  and  the  Mississippi  itself,  before  passing  the  city,  has 
pursued  a  southerly  course  of  about  1,700  miles  from  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  Great  Lakes.  A  still  further  run  in  the  same  direction 
of  1,300  miles  .'brings  it  to  the  Gulf. 

The  advantageous  nature  of  its  position,  as  thus  indicated,  renders 
St.  Louis  a  place  of  very  great  commercial  importance.  It  occupies 
as  it  were  the  central  point,  from  which  the  great  natural  highways 
of  the  Union  diverge  in  different  directions.  The  different  radii 
which  spring  from  it  bring  it  in  contact  with  a  vast  circumference. 
The  Missouri  connects  it  with  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  Ohio  with 
the  Alleghanies,  the  upper  Mississippi  with  the  Great  Lakes,  the 
lower  with  the  ocean.  It  is  destined  soon  to  become  the  greatest 
internal  entrepot  of  trade  in  the  country.  From  their  different 
positions,  they  never  can  become  rivals,  but  St.  Louis  will  always  be 
the  greatest  auxiliary  to  New  Orleans.  Except  this  latter  city, 
there  is  but  one  other  (Cincinnati)  in  advance  of  it  in  the  valley, 
and  but  few  years  will  elapse  ere,  with  the  same  exception,  it 
becomes  the  greatest  city  west  of  the  Alleghanies.  In  1830  its 


130  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

population  did  not  much  exceed  5,000  souls.  In  1845  it  numbered 
34,000,  being  an  increase  of  nearly  sevenfold  in  fifteen  years  !  Said 
I  not  that,  on  every  hand,  it  was  replete  with  the  indications  of  rapid 
development? 

Should  the  seat  of  the  general  government  ever  be  transferred 
from  Washington,  St.  Louis  has  long  been  looked  to  as  its  suc- 
cessor in  metropolitan  honours.  But  Washington  is  now  so  acces- 
sible from  most  parts  of  the  Union,  and  will  soon  be  so  from  all,  by 
means  of  railways  and  steamers,  that  the  transfer  is  not  likely  to  be 
made.  Should,  however,  the  improbable  event  occur,  of  the  sepa- 
ration of  the  valley,  with  all  the  States  which  it  includes,  from  the 
sea-board,  St.  Louis  would  infallibly  become  the  capital  of  the 
Western  confederacy.  The  dumber  of  steamboat  arrivals  at  it  in 
the  course  of  a  year,  from  the  Missouri,  the  Illinois,  the  Ohio,  and 
the  different  portions  of  the  vMississippi,  already  exceeds  fifteen 
hundred ! 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Louis  are  some  of  the  finest  spe- 
cimens of  the  American  prairie.  It  would  be  erroneous  to  suppose 
that  it  is  only  in  this  quarter  that  one  meets  with  these  singular 
manifestations  of  nature  in  one  of  her  wildest  moods.  The  prairie 
is  to  be  seen  in  Alabama  and  Mississippi,  in  parts  of  Louisiana, 
Tennessee,  and  Kentucky,  in  Arkansas,  Missouri,  Iowa,  Illinois, 
and  Indiana.  It  is,  however,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Mississippi 
that  prairies  most  abound,  particularly  in  the  States  of  Arkansas, 
Missouri  and  Iowa.  North  of  the  Ohio  they  are  also  to  be  met 
with  in  great  numbers  and  of  vast  extent,  the  prairies  of  Illinois 
being  equal  in  grandeur  and  extent  to  any  on  the  opposite  side,  with 
the  exception,  perhaps,  of  some  of  those  on  the  Missouri  River, 
sorne|hundreds;.;of  miles  above  its  junction  with  the  Mississippi. 
Those  in  the  neighbourhood  of  St.  Louis,  although  not  remarkable 
for  their  extent,  give  a  good  idea  of  them  all.  In  some  cases  they 
seem  boundless  as  the  ocean,  nothing  being  visible  to  break  the 
monotonous  surface  of  long  waving  grass  with  which  they  are 
covered  to  the  very  horizon.  They  are  generally  interspersed, 
however,  with  woodland  or  solitary  clumps  of  trees,  which,  particu- 
larly where  the  surface  is  broken  and  undulating,  as  is  the  case  in 
the  country  directly  north  of  the  Missouri,  give  them  a  very 
picturesque  aspect.  When  the  wind  sweeps  over  them  the  effect  is 
magnificent,  the  grass  bending  beneath  its  tread  and  undulating  like 
the  waves  of  the  green  sea.  Though  not  in  all  cases,  they  are 
frequently  covered  during  the  summer  with  wild  flowers,  successive 
generations  of  which,  for  several  months,  enamel  their  surface  ; 
some  of  these  flowers  being  small  and  modest,  and  others,  the  great 
majority,  large,  flaunting,  and  arrayed  in  the  most  gorgeous  tints. 
But  like  the  brilliantly  plumaged  birds  of  America,  which  have  no 
song  in  them,  these  gaudy  prairie  flowers  have  seldom  any  perfume. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  131 

I  can  conceive  no  greater  treat  to  the  florist  than  to  find  himself  by 
the  margin  of  an  American  prairie  when  thus  attired  in  the  gayest 
robes  of  summer.  They  are  cleared  by  burning  the  grass  upon 
them  when  it  becomes  withered  and  dry.  When  the  fire  thus 
created  spreads  over  a  large  surface,  the  effect  at  night  is  grand  in 
the  extreme.  When  the  wind  is  high  the  flames  spread  with  fearful 
rapidity,  rather  against  than  with  it,  fuel  being  most  plentifully  pro- 
vided for  them  in  this  direction  by  the  long  grass  being  bent  over 
the  fire.  These  fires  are  frequently  accidental,  and  sometimes  do 
great  damage  to  settlers.  Instances  have  occurred  in  which  trap- 
ping parties  have  had  the  utmost  difficulty  in  saving  themselves  from 
the  hot  pursuit ;  the  plan  now  resorted  to  for  safety  by  those  who 
find  themselves  in  the  midst  of  a  burning  prairie  being  to  take  up  a 
position  at  any  spot  and  cut  the  grass  for  some  distance  around 
them,  the  fire  when  it  makes  up  with  them  taking  the  circuit  of  the 
cleared  spot,  and  thus  leaving  them  scatheless,  but  uniting  again 
after  it  passes  them  into  one  long  zigzag  belt  of  flame,  licking  up 
everything  that  is  combustible  in  its  course. 

Before  leaving  the  Mississippi  valley,  it  may  be  as  well  to  take  a 
rapid  glance  at  the  agriculture  and  agricultural  interest  of  America. 
In  doing  so  I  have  no  intention  of  entering  into  a  disquisition  upon 
practical  farming  ;  my  sole  object  being  to  give  the  reader,  from  this 
the  capital  of  the  chief  agricultural  region  of  the  country,  a  bird's- 
eye  view  of  this  all-important  branch  of  American  industry. 

In  the  broadest  sense  of  the  term,  the  agricultural  products  of 
America  comprise  wheat,  Indian  corn,  rice,  barley,  rye,  oats,  cotton, 
tobacco,  potatoes,  turnips,  flax,  hemp,  sugar,  indigo,  fruit,  and 
grasses  of  all  kinds.  To  these  may  be  added  live  stock,  which  are, 
to  all  intents  and  purposes,  an  agricultural  product.  The  different 
products  here  enumerated  are  by  no  means  indiscriminately  indi- 
genous to  the  whole  country.  They  may  be  grouped  into  five  great 
classes — pasturage,  wheat  and  other  bread  stuffs,  tobacco,  rice  and 
cotton,  and  sugar ;  and  the  country  divided  into  five  great  regions 
corresponding  to  this  classification,  each  region  being  more  particu- 
larly adapted  than  the  others  for  a  particular  class  of  productions. 
We  have  thus  the  pasturage  region,  the  wheat  region,  and  the 
tobacco,  cotton,  and  sugar  regions. 

It  is  in  the  New  England  States  that  we  find  pasturage  carried  on 
to  the  greatest  extent  in  America.  Not  but  that  there  are  other  dis- 
tricts in  the  United  States,  particularly  west  of  the  Mississippi, 
eminently  adapted  for  it;  but  that  the  greater  part  of  New  England 
is,  in  an  agricultural  point  of  view,  adapted  for  little  else.  The  soil 
is  generally  light  and  rocky ;  and  although  wheat  is  raised  to  a  con- 
siderable extent  along  the  borders  of  the  stream,  and  in  some  of  the 
valleys,  such  as  that  of  the  Connecticut,  on  the  whole  the  growth  of 
breadstuff's  is  but  scanty  in  New  England.  Live  stock,  however,  is 


132  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

raised  in  great  abundance,  the  horses  and  horned  cattle  of  New  Eng- 
land being  reckoned  the  best  in  the  country.  Numerous  flocks  of 
sheep  also  find  pasture  on  the  hills ;  and  swine  are  bred  to  a  very 
great  extent,  although  not  so  much  so  as  in  Ohio,  Kentucky,  and 
Tennessee.  It  was  the  presence  of  capital,  and  good  water  power, 
together  with  the  absence  of  any  very  great  demand  for  agricultural 
labour  in  New  England,  that  constituted  it  the  chief  seat  of  Ameri- 
can manufacture. 

The  region  peculiarly  adapted  for  the  produce  of  wheat  and  other 
bread  stuffs  is  by  far  the  largest  of  the  five,  comprehending  fully  one 
half  of  the  entire  area  of  the  Union.  Within  it  are  included  the 
States  of  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Delaware,  Mary- 
land, Ohio,  Kentucky,  Virginia,  Tennessee,  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Missouri,  Iowa,  and  Wisconsin.  The  wheat-growing  region  is  thus 
comprehended  within  about  ten  degrees  of  latitude;  the  line  beyond 
which  it  will  not  grow,  to  the  north,  being  as  low  down  as  latitude 
forty-five  degrees,  whilst  south  of  latitude  thirty-five  degrees  it  is  not 
profitable  to  raise  it.  But  between  these  two  parallels  it  can  be 
raised  with  little  labour  and  in  abundance,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the 
eastern  limit  of  the  desert,  which  separates  the  broad  belt  of  fertile 
land  which  lies  immediately  west  of  the  Mississippi  from  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  But  although  wheat  may  be  profitably  raised,  with  a  few 
trivial  exceptions,  throughout  the  whole  of  this  vast  area,  it  does  not 
follow  that  it  is  the  product  best  adapted  in  all  cases  for  its  soil  and 
climate.  In  almost  every  portion  of  New  York,  Pennsylvania, 
Delaware,  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois,  Wisconsin,  throughout  most  of 
Iowa,  in  Northern  Missouri,  and  in  a  part  of  Maryland  and  Virginia, 
it  may  be  cultivated  with  more  profit  than  any  other  species  of  pro- 
duce; but  in  portions  of  Missouri,  Iowa,  and  Virginia,  and  through- 
out almost  the  whole  of  Kentucky  and  Tennessee,  except  where 
tobacco  is  raised,  Indian  corn  is  the  product  cultivated  to  most 
advantage.  In  the  two  last-mentioned  States  particularly,  as  well  as 
in  Ohio  to  a  very  great  extent,  this  grain  is  raised,  riot  only  for  human 
food,  but  to  feed  swine  upon,  which  are  slaughtered  in  myriads  at 
particular  seasons  of  the  year,  salted,  and  exported,  either  to  the 
distant  markets  of  the  Union,  or  the  still  more  distant  marts  of  the 
foreign  world.  Barley  and  rye  flourish  well  throughout  most  of  this 
region  ;  but  oats,  although  pretty  extensively  produced,  very  rapidly 
degenerate  ;  the  seed  in  most  parts  requiring  to  be  renewed  after  a 
few  crops  have  been  got  from  American  soil.  If  the  demand,  both 
at  home  and  abroad,  for  wheat  were  much  greater  than  it  is,  it  would 
be  much  more  exclusively  produced  than  it  now  is  throughout  the 
wheat-growing  region  par  excellence.  But  as  it  is,  even  in  the  best 
wheat-growing  States,  immense  quantities  of  Indian  corn  and  other 
grains  are  produced,  and  live-stock  consequently  reared  in  considera- 
ble abundance. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  133 

In  regard  to  quantity  produced,  the  wheat-growing  States  range 
as  follows — Ohio  coming  first,  as  raising  the  largest  amount ;  Penn- 
sylvania next,  New  York  third,  and  Virginia  fourth.  Tennessee 
bears  the  palm  for  the  quantity  of  Indian  corn  produced.  Nor  must 
it  be  forgotten  that  this  important  grain  is  produced  in  large  quanti- 
ties far  to  the  south  of  the  line  within  which  wheat  is  raised  to  any 
extent.  The  two  Carolinas,  Georgia,  Florida,  Alabama,  Mississippi, 
and  Louisiana,  produce  it  at  least  in  sufficient  quantity  to  supply  the 
negro  population  with  food,  as  well  as  the  white  with  a  product  which 
figures  largely  in  their  cereal  consumption.  The  best  American 
wheat  is  raised  in  Virginia,  in  the  Genesee  Valley,  in  Western  New 
York,  and  in  Ohio.  Great  quantities  of  it  are  ground  into  flour  before 
being  exported,  the  chief  manufacture  of  flour  in  the  United  States 
for  this  purpose  being  carried  on  at  Rochester,  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Genesee,  and  at  Richmond,  Virginia.  The  Virginia  flour  is 
chiefly  exported  to  the  Brazilian  markets,  being  better  calculated  for 
a  tropical  voyage  than  that  of  either  Ohio  or  New  York. 

There  is  not  a  State  of  the  United  States  in  which  tobacco  may 
not  be,  and  has  not  been,  produced.  It  can  be,  and  has  also  been, 
produced  in  Western  Canada.  But  the  tract  in  which  the  bulk  of 
this  product  is  raised,  stretches  from  the  34th  northward  to  the  40th 
parallel  of  latitude;  five-sixths  of  it  thus  lying  within  the  limits 
already  assigned  to  the  grain-growing  region.  The  far  greater  pro- 
portion of  the  tobacco  raised  within  this  tract  is  cultivated  south  of 
tne  37th  parallel,  the  culture  of  this  plant  being  thus  chiefly  confined 
to  three  degrees  of  latitude,  two  of  which  are  also  within  the  grain- 
growing  region.  Virginia  produces  the  greatest  quantity,  her  capital, 
Richmond,  being  the  principal  tobacco  mart  of  the  country.  The 
State  has  taken  every  possible  precaution,  by  means  of  legislative 
enactment,  to  prevent  inferior  articles  from  being  palmed  off  upon 
the  community.  I  have  already  alluded  to  the  means  devised  to 
protect  merchants  from  fraud  on  the  part  of  the  producers,  at  the 
sales  which  periodically  take  place  in  the  public  warehouses  at  Rich- 
mond. Kentucky  follows  Virginia  in  point  of  quantity;  after 
which  come  Tennessee,  Maryland,  South  Carolina,  Missouri  and 
even  Ohio. 

The  great  bulk  of  the  cotton-growing  region  lies  to  the  south  of 
the  34th  parallel,  stretching  from  the  Atlantic  to  beyond  the  Missis- 
sippi, with  an  average  width  of  about  four  degrees  of  latitude,  the 
tract  being  comprehended  between  the  line  last  mentioned  and  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico.  To  the  north,  however,  its  growth-is  not  confined 
within  this  line,  a  good  deal  of  cotton  being  raised  in  Virginia,  and 
in  the  portions  of  North  Carolina,  Tennessee  and  Arkansas,  which 
are  north  of  it.  But  the  chief  cotton-growing  States  are  to  the 
south  of  it,  and  range  as  follows,  according  to  the  quantity  pro- 
duced : — Mississippi,  Alabama,  Georgia,  and"  South  Carolina. 
VOL.  II.— 12 


134  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

Tennessee  comes  next ;  Louisiana,  Arkansas,  and  Virginia  following 
in  the  order  in  which  they  are  named.  In  none  of  these  States  is 
cotton  the  exclusive,  but,  in  the  four  principal  cotton-growing  States, 
it  is  the  staple  product.  To  these  Florida  may  be  added,  although 
its  annual  yield  is  not  yet  large.  In  the  Carolinas  and  Georgia  rice 
is  produced  to  a  great  extent  from  the  low  marshy  grounds  of  the 
coast,  as  also  in  the  coast  districts  of  Florida,  Alabama,  Mississippi, 
and  Louisiana.  Rice  has  now  become  a  leading  article  of  export 
from  the  South.  The  extent  to  which  Indian  corn  is  cultivated  in 
these  States  has  already  been  hinted  at;  nor  is  wheat  altogether  ne- 
glected, small  quantities  of  it  being  raised  in  the  upland  districts  of 
the  interior  in  most  of  them.  We  have  also  already  seen  how  far 
in  Virginia,  wheat,  arid  in  both  Virginia  and  Tennessee,  Indian 
corn  and  tobacco,  compete,  with  cotton  in  the  annual  produce  of 
these  States. 

The  cultivation  of  the  sugar-cane  and  the  manufacture  of  sugar 
in  the  United  States  is  chiefly,  if  not  exclusively,  confined  to  the 
State  of  Louisiana.  The  entire  yield  of  this  article  in  1844  was 
computed  at  upwards  of  126  millions  of  pounds,  of  which  upwards 
of  ninety-seven  millions  were  produced  by  Louisiana  alone.  The 
remainder  was  chiefly  raised  and  manufactured  in  Georgia  and 
Florida,  there  being  now  every  indication  that  sugar  will  yet  be  the 
great  staple  product  of  the  latter.  The  sugar-growers,  as  a  class, 
differ  in  this  important  particular  from  their  fellow  agriculturists, 
that  they  join  the  manufacturers  of  the  North  in  the  cry  for  pro- 
tection. In  this  they  cannot  avail  themselves  of  the  flimsy  pretext, 
so  prominently  put  forward  by  our  colonial  interests  and  their  par- 
liamentary abettors,  that  one  of  their  objects  in  seeking  to  limit  the 
use,  if  not  entirely  to  prohibit  the  introduction,  of  slave-grown 
sugar,  is  to  discountenance  slavery  and  the  slave-trade.  Louisiana 
cannot  allege  that  one  of  her  objects  is  to  discountenance  slavery, 
for  her  own  sugar  is  produced  by  slaves  as  much  as  is  that  of  Cuba 
or  Brazil.  And  so  Jong  as  the  internal  slave-trade  continues  in  the 
United  States,  enabling  Louisiana  to  increase  her  number  of  slaves 
by  importations  from  the  neighbouring  States  instead  of  from  the 
coast  of  Africa,  she  cannot,  with  any  very  high  degree  of  consist- 
ency, aver  that  her  cry  for  protection  is  partly  based  upon  a  desire 
to  put  down  the  slave-trade.  Her  object  in  taking  the  part  which 
ehe  does  take  on  the  commercial  question,  is  identical  with  that  of 
those  with  whom  she  is  in  league,  to  secure  by  legislative  enact- 
ment a  higher  profit  to  capital  invested  in  a  particular  pursuit  than 
it  would  otherwise  realise,  or  than  capital  otherwise  invested  would 
produce;  and  this  nt  the  expense  of  the  whole  body  of  consumers. 

What  an  almost  inexhaustible  source  of  wealth  is  there  to  the 
Republic  in  this  variety  of  climate,  and  the  vast  extent  of  fertile 
surface!  With  a  few  exceptions,  such  as  the  rocky  tracts  of  New 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  135 

England,  and  the  light  sandy  plains  of  New  Jersey,  the  whole  area 
of  the  country,  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf,  and  from  the. Atlantic; 
to  far  beyond  the  Mississippi,  is  highly  productive.  Even  the  salt 
marshes  on  the  sea-shore  are  capable  of  being  turned  to  the  most 
profitable  account.  In  many  districts  of  an  upland  character,  the 
soil,  after  having  been  used  for  some  time,  requires  to  be  manured, 
as  it  does  in  Europe,  to  renovate  it.  But  in  others,  particularly  in 
the  case  of  the  bottom  lands  on  the  great  rivers,  and  of  valleys 
well  irrigated,  and  where  the  soil  is  rich  and  deep,  no  manure  is 
required.  In  innumerable  instances  has  it  been  worked  for  years 
in  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  and  on  both  sides  of  the  Jakes,  pro- 
ducing every  year  more  abundant  crops,  as  the  soil  was  more 
thoroughly  worked,  without  the  aid  of  manure.  .A 

There  is  no  question  that  the  richest  soil  in  the  United  States  is 
to  be  found  in  the  Mississippi  valley.  There  it  is  not/as  in  so  many 
other  cases,  a  thin  covering  over  the  clay,  the  sand,  the  gravel,  the 
chalk,  or  the  rock  ;  but  the  deposit  of  ages,  effected  by  the  constant 
operation  of  mighty  agencies.  In  some  cases  the  rich  black  mould 
is  found  as  much  as  a  hundred  feet  deep,  and  when  turned  up,  is 
as  light  and  free  as  the  driven  snow.  The  pedestrian,  as  he  walks 
over  it,  can,  in  most  cases,  sink  his  cane  to  the  very  head  in  it. 
Nor  is  it  any  wonder  that  it  should  be  found  so  deep,  when  we  con- 
sider that  the  vast  desert  which  intervenes  between  the  Mississippi 
and  the  Rocky  Mountains  has  been  gradually  despoiled,  that  this 
rich  deposit  should  be  made  in  the  lower  portions  of  the  valley. 
The  great  tract  which,  commencing  some  hundreds  of  miles  to  the 
west  of  the  river,  slopes  gently  up  towards  the  mountains,  has  been 
gradually  denuded  of  its  soil ;  nothing  being  now  left  upon  it  but 
the  dry  sand,  through  which  the  rocks  project,  as  the  bones  some- 
times protrude  through  the  skin,  the  whole  looking  like  the  cadavre 
of  what  was  once  a  fertile  region. 

Nothing  can  better  serve  to  convey  to  the  reader's  mind  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  exuberance  of  the  Mississippi  valley,  than  the 
ease  with  which,  the  little  expense  at  which,  and  the  abundance  in 
which,  wheat  can  be  produced  in  its  upper  and  grain-growing  sec- 
tion. Throughout  its  entire  length  and  breadth,  Indian  corn  seems 
to  be  almost  a  spontaneous  production;  the  difficulty  seemingly 
being,  not  to  produce  it,  but  to  prevent  it  from  growing  in  too  great 
abundance.  The  farmer  in  the  valley  is  remunerated  if  he  gets  ten 
cents,  or  about  sixpence  sterling,  a  bushel  for  it  on  his  farm.  For 
want  of  a  greater  domestic  and  foreign  demand,  a  great  portion  of 
the  enormous  quantity  annually  raised  of  it  rots  upon  the  ground. 
Wheat,  of  course,  requires  more  attention  to  be  bestowed  upon  it, 
and  more  outlay  to  produce  it.  But  it  is  astonishing  how  little 
labour  and  cost  it  requires  to  draw  exuberant  crops  from  the  rich 
prairie  lands.  The  following  estimate  of  the  cost  of  raising  wheat, 


136  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

for  the  first  time,  from  prairie  land,  I  procured  from  a  gentleman  in 
Washington,  himself  a  practical  farmer  in  the  West,  and,  at  the 
time,  a  member  of  Congress  for  a  western  constituency. 

For  ploughing  an  acre  of  sod  $20 

Seed 10 

Sowing  seed         -_.-_--  10 

Harvesting        ........  i   25 

Threshing 1  75 

Total  Expense $70 

Here  then  we  have  seven  dollars,  or  about  29s.  2^7.  sterling, 
covering  the  whole  expense  of  producing  an  acre  of  wheat  in  por- 
tions of  the  valley.  And  this  is  the  cost  at  which  the  prairie  can 
be  cultivated  for  the  first  lime.  In  subsequent  years  it  is  diminished  ; 
as,  after  the  s6d  is  once  turned  up,  the  land  can  be  ploughed  for 
one  dollar  an  acre.  This  reduces  the  aggregate  cost  to  '255.  per 
acre.  But  it  may  be  supposed  that,  as  the  husbandry  is  rude,  the 
yield  will  not  be  very  abundant.  The  average  yield  of  good  prairie 
land,  when  properly  tilled,  is  above  thirty-five  bushels  per  acre;  but 
as  it  is  generally  farmed,  it  yields  an  average  of  thirty  bushels. 
This  gives  the  cost  of  production  at  very  nearly  Is.  the  first  year, 
and  at  lOrf.  in  subsequent  years.  The  American  is  somewhat 
smaller  than  the  English  bushel-  but,  making  ample  allowance  for 
this  difference,  I Os.  sterling  may  be  assumed  as  the  cost  of  pro- 
ducing a  quarter  of  wheat  in  most  portions  of  the  Mississippi  val- 
ley, where  the  land  is  prairie  land.  Of  course,  when  it  is  forest 
land  the  cost  of  clearing  will  enhance  that  of  production.  It  there- 
fore follows,  that  all  that  the  prairie  farmer  can  get  over  10s.  sterling 
per  quarter  for  his  wheat  on  his  farm,  is  clear  profit  to  him.  Com- 
pare this  with  84.?.,  63.s.,  and  56s.,  as  the  successively  assumed 
remunerating  prices  in  this  country.  I  say  upon  his  farm, — for 
before  th&  wheat,  fro,m  these  remote  districts  in  America,  reaches  an 
available  market,  its  value  is  so  enhanced  by  commissions  and  trans- 
portation dues,  as  to  give  the  Mississippi  farmer  but  little  advantage 
on  the  sea-board  over  his  competitors  on  the  American  and  Cana- 
dian sides  of  the  lakes,  or  of  the  grain-growing  regions  east  of  the 
Alleghanies.  My  chief  object  in  here  alluding  to  the  ease  and  little 
cost  at  which  wheat  can  on  prairie  land  be  simply  produced,  without 
calculating  its  constantly  augmenting  value  as  it  is  borne  for  hun- 
dreds and  perhaps  thousands  of  miles  to  market,  is  to  show  the 
poor  and  industrious  man  in  this  country  at  how  little  cost  of  either 
labour  or  money  he  could  secure  a  competence  in  these  exuberant 
though  distant  regions.  Settled  upon  prairie  land,  he  is  an  inde- 
pendent man  from  the  moment  that  the  first  year's  crop  is  gathered 
in ;  as  he  is,  when  settled  upon  wheat  land,  in  any  part  of  America ; 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 


137 


although,  in  other  parts,  greater  labour  and  a  greater  outlay  are 
required  to  produce  a  crop.  Prairie  land  is  obtainable  tor  a  variety 
of  prices,  from  the  government  price  of  1  dollar  25  cents,  or  5s. 
2Jr/.  per  acre,  to  30  dollars,  or  61  5s.,  in  the  very  best  locations. 

Doubts  have  been  thrown,  in  some  quarters  in  this  country,  upon 
the  ability  of  America  to  supply  our  deficiencies  in  case  of  scarcity ; 
and  these  doubts  have  been  grounded  upon  the  comparatively  smalt 
surplus  of  wheat  which,  for  two  or  three  years  back,  when  there  was 
such  a  foreign  demand  for  it,  America  had  to  spare.  But  were 
there  a  large  and  steady  foreign  demand,  America,  without  adding 
to  her  present  number  of  agriculturists,  could  produce  double  the 
quantity  of  wheat  which  she  now  produces.  Make  it  more  profit- 
able to  the  American  farmer  to  raise  wheat  than  Indian  corn,  and 
much  of  the  surface  which  is  now  devoted  to  the  produce  of  the 
one,  would  be  applied  to  that  of  the  other  grain.  There  is  not,  at 
present,  a  sufficient  demand,  either  home  or  foreign,  to  tax 
all  the  energies  of  the  agriculturists;  and  this  to  a  great  extent, 
accounts  for  the  yet  backward  state,  in  most  instances,  of  American 
husbandry.  To  produce  all  that  is  needed  for  home  consumption, 
and  surplus  sufficient  to  meet  but  a  limited  foreign  demand,  has 
never  called  for  a  careful  and  scientific  treatment  of  the  surface 
actually  under  cultivation.  But,  notwithstanding  the  want  of  stimu- 
lus in  this  respect,  agriculture  has,  in  some  places,  reached  a  high 
degree  of  perfection  in  America.  This  is  not  generally  obvious  to- 
the  mere  traveller  by  railway  and  steamer.  The  districts  first  set- 
tled were  such  as  adjoined  the  old  highways;  and  no  one  has  seen 
American  husbandry  in  its  more  perfect  development,  who  has  not 
travelled  along  the  great  national  road  in  Maryland,  through  the 
valley  of  Virginia,  through  the  centre  of  Pennsylvania,  and  along 
the  old  highway  between  Albany  and  Buffalo  in  New  York. 


12* 


138  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FROM    ST.    LOUIS    TO    LOUISVILLE,    CINCINNATI    AND    PITTSBURG.—- 
MINING    INTERESTS    OF    THE    UNITED    STATES. 

The  Advanced  Posts  of  Civilization. — A  genuine  Westerner. — Biblical  Disquisi- 
tion amongst  the  Negroes. — A  Solar  Eclipse. — Its  explanation. — The  Ohio. — 
City  of  Cairo — Aspect  of  the  River. — Louisville. — Riffle-shooting. — From 
Louisville  to  Cincinnati. — Freedom  and  Slavery. — Cincinnati — Voyage  to 
Pittsburg. — A  Scottish  Emigrant  and  his  History. — Reflections  on  Emigration. 
—Change  in  the  aspect  of  the  country — Pittsburg — Its  Situation,  Commu- 
nications, and  Manufactures. — Minerals  and  Mining  Interests  of  the  United 
States. 

WE  left  St.  Louis  on  our  way  up  the  Ohio  after  a  sojourn  of  some 
days,  during  which  we  made  several  excursions  to  different  points 
on  both  banks  of  the  Missouri.  It  was  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morn- 
ing that  we  left;  and  as  the  day,  which  was  exceedingly  fine,  wore 
on,  nothing  could  look  more  lordly  than  the  Mississippi,  as,  after  re- 
ceiving the  immense  and  turgid  volume  of  the  Missouri,  it  rolled 
swiftly  on  between  its  variegated  and  imposing  banks — which  were 
on  the  average,  about  a  mile  apart — to  take  tribute  from  the  Ohio. 
The  bluffs  on  either  side,  with  their  ever-changing  and  fantastic  forms, 
were  to  me  a  never-failing  source  of  amusement  and  interest,  par- 
ticularly when  I  beheld  them  crowned  by  some  lone  hamlet  or  village, 
which  the  forest  behind  seemed  to  be  pushing  into  the  stream.  They 
looked  like  the  advanced  posts  of  civilization  in  the  heart  of  a  wilder- 
ness. The  main  body  is  rapidly  following  up,  the  invasion  can  no 
longer  be  resisted,  and  the  shadow  of  coming  greatness  is  already 
forecast  upon  the  land. 

I  have  in  a  former  chapter  alluded  to  some  of  the  peculiarities  of 
the  vanguard  of  the  invasion.  Theirs  is  a  rough  and  an  adventurous 
life,  and  if  they  are  not  themselves  rough  when  they  undertake  it, 
they  soon  become  so  in  prosecuting  it.  The  pioneers  in  the  fore- 
most line  are  the  most  adventurous  and  restless  of  all,  contracting 
habits  in  their  unremitting  war  with  nature  which  completely  unfit 
them  for  the  restraints  of  civilized  life.  The  consequence  is,  that 
they  fly  the  approach  of  anything  like  conventionality,  or  a  settled 
form  of  sociely,  pushing  their  way  further  and  further  into  the 
forest,  as  permanent  settlements  spring  up  behind  them.  Those 
who  follow  differ  at  first  but  little  from  their  predecessors,  except 
in  their  preference  for  a  fixed  over  a  migratory  life;  and  even  they 
are  restless  to  a  degree,  as  compared  with  the  settled  habits  and  the 
fixity  of  residence  which  characterise  a  more  advanced  state  of  society. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  139 

It  is  chiefly  this  class  that  reduces  the  wilderness  to  cultivation,  and 
constitutes  the  great  agricultural  body  of  the  West.  They  are  ready 
for  a  change  of  residence  whenever  it  may  appear  to  be  a  good  specu- 
lation, and  not,  as  is  the  case  with  the  others,  simply  to  enjoy,  in  a  state 
of  semi-barbarism,  a  species  of  romantic  independence  in  the  woods. 
We  had  not  been  long  afloat  ere  1  discovered  that  we  had  several 
excellent  specimens  of  the  second,  or  settling  class,  on  board.  One 
particularly  attracted  my  attention,  from  his  enormous  bulk,  faultless 
proportions,  free  and  easy  air,  and  manly  bearing.  He  was  not  over 
thirty,  and  was  dressed  in  a  kind  of  green  pilot-cloth  coat,  although 
the  weather  was  oppressively  warm,  his  black  hair  falling  in  careless 
curls  from  under  a  small  cap,  over  his  face.  His  complexion  was 
much  lighter  and  clearer  than  that  of  the  great  majority  of  the  West- 
erners, who,  from  the  miasmas  engendered  by  the  extent  to  which 
vegetable  decomposition  is  still  going  on  in  the  soil,  have  generally 
a  dark,  sallow,  bilious  fever  and  aguish  look  about  them.  He  had 
a  small  black  eye,  as  quick  and  restless  as  that  of  a  ferret.  Nothing 
seemed  to  escape  his  observation.  He  first  made  himself  familiar 
with  everything  on  board,  then  with  everybody,  and  lastly  gave  his 
attention  almost  exclusively  to  external  objects.  Every  glance  which 
he  bestowed  upon  you  had  the  deep  prying  curiosity  of  a  first  look 
about  it;  and  you  could  see,  as  his  eye  roved  over  every  object  from 
the  deck  to  the  horizon,  that  the  mind  kept  up  with  it.  He  had  nothing 
of  the  quiet,  brooding  melancholy  and  cunning  look  of  the  genuine 
Yankee  about  him  ;  for  whilst  he  observed  everybody  and  everything, 
he  did  not  seem  anxious  to  escape  observation,  or  to  lead  the  judg- 
ment astray  in  attempting  to  fathom  him.  As  he  paced  the  deck 
with  a  confident,  though  by  no  means  insolent  air,  I  watched  him 
for  some  time  with  the  interest  which  attaches  to  a  fine  specimen  of 
a  noble  race  of  animals,  my  admiration  being  divided  between  his 
herculean  proportions  and  his  manly,  independent  bearing.  It  was 
not  long  ere  I  got  into  conversation  with  him,  although  to  do  so  I 
had  to  make  the  first  advances.  I  found  him  shrewd,  intelligent, 
communicative,  and  inquiring.  He  was  a  red-hot  Oregon  man,  and 
almost  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage  when  he  spoke  of  the  treaty 
which  had  been  just  signed  by  the  "  traitor"  Polk.  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  reap  glory  in  as  yet  unfought  fields  in  Canada  ;  and 
being  disappointed  in  that  quarter,  was  now  on  his  way  to  Washing- 
ton, in  the  hope  of  getting  a  commission,  which  would  enable  him 
to  vent  his  wrath  upon  the  Mexicans.  Having  missed  all  Oregon, 
he  was  now  for  all  Mexico,  and  saw  no  reason  under  the  sun  why  a 
Spaniard  should  be  left  on  the  northern  side  of  Panama.  The 
isthmus,  the  north  pole,  and  the  two  great  oceans,  were  in  his  opinic5n 
the  only  boundaries  which  the  Republic  should  recognize.  He  was 
a  fiery  specimen  of  the  fiercest  Democrats,  with  whom  the  North- 
west abounds — one  of  the  "  Now  or  Sooner"  party,  who  are  not  only 


140  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

carried  away  with  the  most  magnificent  visions  of  the  destinies  of 
the  Republic,  but  are  desirous  of  at  once  realising  them. 

An  eclipse  of  the  sun  was  that  day  looked  for,  between  one  and 
two  o'clock ;  and  as  the  hour  approached  I  drew  near  to  a  group  of  ne- 
groes, who  were  grinning  and  chattering  near  the  bow  of  tne  boat,  each 
with  a  piece  of  smoked  glass  in  his  hand,  through  which  to  observe 
the  expected  phenomenon.  On  getting  within  reach  of  their  voices, 
I  found  them  engaged  in  a  biblical  discussion,  the  controversy  hing- 
ing upon  the  proper  meaning  of  the  phrase,  "  Ho,  ye  that  thirst," 
occurring  in  the  Prophecies.  The  most  loquacious  amongst  them, 
who  seemed  to  be  the  oracle  of  the  group,  held  that  it  was  chiefly 
applied  to  those  who  were  engaged  in  the  cultivation  of  cotton  and 
Indian  corn  ;  the  hoe  being  the  principal  implement  used  by  those  so 
occupied.  Contrary  as  it  might  seem  to  all  experience,  the  exhorta- 
tion addressed  to  those  thus  employed  was,  to  hoe  away  when  they 
felt  thirsty,  that  they  might  forget  their  thirst.  He  was  indebted  for 
this  lucid  interpretation  to  the  overseer  of  a  plantation  in  Alabama, 
on  which  he  had  been  for  some  years  a  slave.  It  was  the  custom 
of  the  overseer  to  collect  the  negroes  every  Sunday  evening,  and 
read  the  Bible  to  them ;  but  it  appeared  that,  no  matter  from  what 
other  parts  he  read,  he  always  concluded  by  referring  to  those  texts 
which  enjoined  upon  servants  the  duty  of  obeying  their  masters  in 
all  things,  and  showed  that  as  a  reward  for  working  hard,  the  harder 
they  worked,  the  less  inconvenience  they  would  feel  from  thirst; 
for  such  was  the  interpretation  which  he  always  put  upon  the  text, 
"  Ho,  ye  that  thirst."  This  explanation  was  followed  by  a  look  of 
incredulity,  which  passed  round  the  group,  and  drew  from  the  speaker 
himself  a  confession  that  although  he  had  often  practically  tested  it, 
his  experience  had  invariably  belied  the  interpretation. 

Shortly  afterwards  the  eclipse,  punctual  to  its  time,  commenced. 
It  was  but  partial  in  the  latitude  wherein  we  beheld  it,  scarcely  one- 
half  of  the  sun's  disc  being  obscured.  It  lasted  altogether  about  two 
hours,  and  gave  rjse  to  many  sapient  and  philosophic  observations 
amongst  those  on  board,  particularly  our  coloured  friends. 

"  What  makes  de  'clipse,  Massa  Gallego  T  asked  one  of  the  group, 
addressing  himself  to  the  oracle. 

"  S'pose  I  'splain  it,  Jim  Snow,  you  no  und'stand  it  den,"  replied 
Mr.  Gallego;  "  but,  for  de  sake  of  de  oder  jin'lemen  I'll  give  you 
de  philosophic  cause  of  de  phenomenon." 

"  Go  it,  Massa  Gallego,"  the  rest  cried  in  chorus,  exposing  their 
huge  white  teeth,  as  they  grinned  almost  from  ear  to  ear. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  observed  Mr.  Gallego,  encouraged  by  this  mani- 
festation of  confidence  in  his  attainments,  "  de  sun  is  a  movin'  body, 
and  so  is  de  airlh,  and  so,  for  dat  matter,  is  de  moon." 

"  Well,"  cried  they  all  in  expectation. 

"  So  you  see,"  continued  Mr.  Gallego,  with  all  the  dignity  of  a 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  141 

professor,  "  de  sun  come  between  de  circumbular  globe  and  de 
moon,  and  then  de  diameter  of  de  moon  fall  upon  de  sun,  when  dey 
are  all  in  de  conjunctive  mood." 

"  Well,"  cried  his  audience  again. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Gallego,  in  a  tone  of  displeasure,  "  what  are 
you  well-ing  at  ?  Don't  you  see  how  it  is  ?  I  can't  give  you  no 
more  than  a  'splanation.  I  can't  give  you  brains  to  und'stand  it,  no 
how." 

"  'Cause  you  haven't  got  none  to  spare;  yhaw,  yhaw!"  said  Jim 
Snow,  bending  almost  double,  that  he  might  laugh  the  more 
heartily. 

"Get  out,  nigga!"  said  the  others,  who  were  as  little  satisfied 
with  the  explanation  as  Mr.  Snow  was,  but  who  attempted  to  impose 
upon  each  other  by  rallying  round  the  professor,  whose  dignity  had 
been  grievously  wounded,  as  was  evident  from  the  manner  in  which 
he  stood,  with  his  lips  in  a  frightful  state  of  protrusion,  his  nostrils 
dilated,  and  his  eyes  rolling  about  like  those  of  a  duck  in  a  thun- 
derstorm. 

"  Well,  I  no  und'stand  it,  dat's  all,"  said  Jim  Snow,  deprecating 
the  rising  wrath  of  the  company. 

"  Who  said  you  did,  nigga  ?"  said  two  or  three  of  them,  who  on 
account  of  their  superior  nervous  organization,  had  by  this  time 
been  wrought  up  into  a  towering  passion. 

"Didn't  he  say  dis  here  globe  was  circumbular?"  asked  Jim  in 
self-defence. 

"  So  it  is,"  said  one  of  the  group ;  "  you'll  not  be  believin'  next 
that  dey  catch  de  pickled  herrin's  in  de  sea." 

"  I  tell  you  it  isn't ;  de  globe  is  as  flat  as  my  hand,"  replied  Mr. 
Snow. 

"  Neber  mind  him,"  said  the  professor,  quelling  the  gathering 
tempest;  "you  might  as  well  expect  a  kyow's  tail  to  grow  up'ards 
as  that  'ere  nigga  to  larn  anything." 

"  If  de  globe  is  round,"  continued  Mr.  Snow,  "  how  do  de  people 
live  on  de  under  side?  Dey  must  stand  on  their  heads  I  reckon." 

"  Dey  live  inside,  you  brack  brockhead,"  replied  the  professor, 
turning  round  upon  his  heel,  to  put  an  end  to  the  discuss  on. 

Jim  felt  abashed.  He  was  not  prepared  for  this  mode  of  carrying 
what  he  had  evidently  regarded  as  his  strong  point.  His  unbelief 
was  shaken,  but  instead  of  being  welcomed  back  into  the  fold,  he 
was  hissed  out  of  the  company,  as  a  punishment  for  his  infidelity. 

When  I  got  upon  deck  next  morning,  we  were  entering  the  Ohio. 
It  was,  at  one  time,  intended  to  build  a  city  at  the  confluence  of  the 
two  streams,  which,  had  it  started  into  being,  would  have  been  a 
formidable  rival  to  St.  Louis.  The  chief  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the 
project  was,  that  the  site  on  which  the  town  was  to  rest  was  very 
frequently  under  water.  Cairo  was  to  have  been  its  name,  but  it 


142  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

by  no  means  follows  that  because  one  Cairo  can  stand  ankle  deep 
in  the  sands  of  the  desert,  another  could  do  so  up  to  the  knees  in 
the  marshes  of  the  Ohio.  For  the  present,  therefore,  the  Cairo  of 
the  West  is  a  mere  phantasy ;  but  that  the  rising  exigencies  of  the 
region  will,  ere  long,  conjure  into  b£ing  an  important  commercial 
depot  near  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  can  scarcely  admit  of  a  doubt. 

The  valley  of  the  Ohio,  which  is  merely  a  feature  of  that  of  the 
Mississippi,  comprehends  a  large  section  of  Illinois,  the  greater  por- 
tions of  Kentucky,  Ohio  and  Indiana,  a  small  part  of  Tennessee, 
and  those  districts  of  Pennsylvania  and  Virginia  which  lie  west  of 
the  Alleghany  chain.  It  is  irrigated  by  a  magnificent  river  system, 
the  Ohio  being  the  main  stream  into  which  the  whole  valley  is 
drained ;  its  chief  tributaries  being  the  Wabash,  which  enters  it  on 
the  north,  aud  the  Cumberland  and  Tennessee,  which  join  it  on  the 
south  bank.  These,  and  other  tributaries  of  the  Ohio,  are  navigable 
by  steamers  for  considerable  distances,  the  Wabash  in  particular 
being  so  for  about  300  miles  during  the  greater  portion  of  the  year. 

For  a  loner  distance  up,  the  average  width  of  the  river  appeared 
to  be  from  three-quarters  of  a  mile  to  a  mile.  Its  current  is  scarcely 
so  impetuous  as  that  of  the  Mississippi,  and  its  volume,  except  when 
it  is  in  high  flood,  is  as  clear  throughout  as  I  observed  it  to  be  on 
its  entrance  into  that  river.  The  banks  on  both  sides,  particularly 
the  southern  bank,  are  undulating  and  picturesque,  but  there  is  a 
total  absence  of  the  bluffs,  which  form  so  prominent  a  feature  in  the 
scenery  of  the  Mississippi.  For  almost  the  entire  way  up  to  Louis- 
ville, which  is  360  miles  from  the  junction,  both  banks  are,  with 
but  occasional  exceptions,  shrouded,  to  the  water's  edge,  in  the  dark, 
dense  forests  of  the  West.  The  prairie  land  of  Indiana  and  Illinois 
does  not  extend  to  the  Ohio.  There  is  a  flat  strip  of  land  on  both 
sides  of  the  river,  more  continuous  on  the  Kentucky,  than  on  the 
other  bank,  which  intervenes  between  the  river  and  the  woody  un- 
dulations which  skirt  it ;  this  strip  consisting  of  rich  deep  alluvial 
deposit,  which  is  generally  inundated  when  the  Ohio  is  in  very  high 
flood. 

We  had  nearly  completed  the  third  day  after  our  departure  from 
St.  Louis,  when,  at  early  morning,  we  arrived  at  Louisville,  the 
largest  and  handsomest  town  in  Kentucky.  It  is  built  at  the  point 
at  which  occurs  the  chief  obstacle  to  the  navigation  of  the  river,  that 
which  is  known  as  the  rapids  of  the  Ohio.  These  rapids  are  trifling 
as  compared  with  those  which  occur  in  the  course  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, extending  over  only  two  miles,  and  not  falling  much  above 
ten  feet  per  mile.  When  the  river  is  full,  the  impediment  which 
they  offer  is  not  so  great  as  when  the  water  is  low.  A  short  canal 
has  been  constructed  around  them  to  avoid  the  difficulty.  ^ 

Intending  to  pass  a  day  here,  we  immediately  landed  and  took  up 
our  quarters  in  an  excellent  hotel.  The  town  is  well  built,  spacious, 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  143 

and  pleasant,  and  has  a  thriving,  bustling,  and  progressive  look 
about  it.  The  population  is  now  about  35,000,  to  which  it  has 
increased  from  500,  which  was  all  that  it  could  muster  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  century. 

The  world  has  rung  with  the  fame  of  Kentucky  riflemen.  Extra- 
ordinary feats  have  been  attributed  to  them,  some  practicable,  others 
of  a  very  fabulous  character.  For  instance,  one  may  doubt,  without 
being  justly  chargeable  with  too  great  a  share  of  incredulity,  the 
exploit  attributed  to  one  of  their  "  crack  shots,"  who,  it  is  said, 
could  throw  up  two  potatoes  in  the  air,  and  waiting  until  he  got 
them  in  a  line,  send  a  rifle  ball  through  both  of  them.  But  waving 
all  question  as  to  these  extraordinary  gifts,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that 
the  Kentucky  riflemen  are  first-rate  shots.  As  I  was  anxious  to 

witness  some  proofs  of  their  excellence,  my  friend  D inquired 

of  the  landlord  if  there  were  then  any  matches  going  on  in  town. 
He  directed  us  to  a  spot  in  the  outskirts,  where  we  were  likely  to 
see  something  of  the  kind,  and  thither  we  hied  without  loss  of  time. 
There  had  been  several  matches  that  morning,  but  they  were  over 
before  we  arrived  on  the  ground.  There  was  one,  however,  still 
going  on,  of  rather  a  singular  character,  and  which  had  already  been 
nearly  of  a  week's  standing.  At  a  distance  of  from  seventy-five  to  a 
hundred  yards  from  where  the  parties  stood,  were  two  black  cocks, 
pacing  about  in  an  enclosure  which  left  them  exposed  on  the  side 
towards  the  competitors.  At  these  two  men  were  firing  as  fast  as 
they  could  load,  and,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  at  random,  as  the  cocks 

got  off  with  impunity.  On  my  observing  to  Mr.  D that,  although 

I  was  no  "crack  shot,"  I  thought  I  could  kill  one  of  them  at  the 
first  fire,  he  smiled,  and  directed  my  attention  to  their  tails.  One 
indeed  had  scarcely  any  tail  left,  unless  two  solitary  feathers  deserved 
the  appellation.  On  closer  inspection,  I  found  a  white  line  drawn 
in  chalk  or  paint  on  either  side  of  the  tail  of  each,  close  to  the  body 
of  the  bird,  and  each  party  taking  a  bird,  the  bet  was  to  be  won  by 
him  who  first  shot  the  tail  off  his,  up  to  the  line  in  question,  and 
without  inflicting  the  slightest  wound  upon  its  possessor.  They  were 
to  fire  as  often  as  they  pleased,  during  a  certain  hour  each  day,  until 
the  bet  was  decided.  One  of  the  competitors  had  been  very  success- 
ful, and  had  accomplished  his  object  on  the  third  day's  trial,  with 
the  exception  of  the  two  feathers  already  alluded  to,  which,  having 
had  a  wide  gap  created  between  them,  seemed  to  baffle  all  his  efforts 
to  dislodge  them.  What  the  issue  was  I  cannot  say,  for  at  the  close 
of  that  day's  trial  it  remained  undecided. 

Next  day,  we  proceeded  on  board  one  of  the  many  steamers  calling 
at  Louisville,  and  set  off  for  Cincinnati,  120  miles  further  up  the 
Ohio.^,  The  river  differed  but  little  in  its  aspect,  as  we  ascended  it, 
with*the  exception,  perhaps,  that  the-  further  up  we  proceeded,  in 
other  words,  the  further  east,  or  the  nearer  the  older  States  we  went, 


144  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

the  settlements  on  its  banks  were  larger  and  more  frequent,  and 
indicated  a  higher  state  of  advancement  than  those  below.  The 
same  difference  was  all  along  observable  between  the  two  banks,  as 
has  already  been  adverted  to  as  existing  between  Virginia  and  any 
of  the  northern  States.  Whilst  the  one  side  presented  every  appear- 
ance of  industry,  enterprise,  and  activity,  a  sleepy  languor  seemed 
to  pervade  the  other,  which  was  not  a  mere  fancy  resulting  from  a 
preconceived  opinion,  but  real  and  palpable.  The  Ohio,  for  almost 
its  entire  course,  separates  from  each  other  the  realms  of  freedom 
and  slavery.  It  runs  for  a  short  distance  within  the  limits  of  Penn- 
sylvania, dividing  for  the  rest  of  its  course  the  States  of  Ohio, 
Indiana,  and  Illinois  from  Virginia  and  Kentucky.  Taking  into 
account  the  windings  of  the  river,  the  Ohio  coast  of  the  last  men- 
tioned State  is  upwards  of  600  miles  in  length. 

I  was  somewhat  disappointed  by  the  appearance  presented  by 
Cincinnati  from  the  river.  Considering  that  as  yet  this  is  the  capital 
of  the  West,  being  the  largest  city  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  I  was  led 
to  expect  a  more  imposing  front  than  it  presents  to  the  Ohia,  on  the 
north  bank  of  which  it  is  built,  notfar  from  the  south-west  angle  of  the 
State  of  Ohio.  We  landed  and  stayed  in  the  city  for  two  days  during 
which  we  had  ample  opportunity  of  inspecting  it.  It  is  very  pleasantly 
situated  on  two  plains  of  different  elevations,  the  lower  being  a  con- 
siderable height  above  the  river,  and  about  fifty  feet  lower  than  the 
higher  one  ;  both  being  skirted  immediately  behind  the  town  by  a 
range  of  low  hills,  which  seem  to  hem  it  in  between  them  and  the 
river.  It  appears,  therefore,  to  be  cramped  for  room,  very  like 
Greenock,  on  the  Clyde  ;  but  the  bowl  in  which  Cincinnati  stands 
will  contain  a  much  larger  population,  without  there  being  any 
necessity  for  its  invading  the  hills,  than  it  is  likely  to  contain  for 
many  a  day.  The  elevated  grounds  are  already  occupied  by  many 
residences  most  charmingly  situated,  from  most  of  which  the  town 
appears  to  great  advantage.  When  seen  from  the  hills  behind,  Cin- 
cinnati amply  atones  for  its  rather  shabby  appearance  from  the 
river.  When  in  it  the  town  is  not  only  passable  but  elegant,  particu- 
larly the  bulk  of  it  lying  back  from  the  stream.  The  streets,  which 
generally  intersect  each  other  at  right  angles,  are  very  close  together, 
of  moderate  width,  well  shaded  with  trees  in  some  instances,  and 
well  paved  in  almost  all.  The  suburbs  are  somewhat  scattered,  and 
though  they  appear  straggling,  are  laid  out  upon  a  regular  plan, 
which  can  be  traced  by  a  little  observation,  and  which  will  preserve 
in  its  future  increase  the  regularity  which  now  characterises  the  city. 
It  is  not  the  capital  of  the  State,  arid  its  public  buildings  are  therefore 
exclusively  of  a  municipal,  literary,  and  religious  description.  None 
of  them  are  large,  but  several,  particularly  some  of  the  churches,  are 
exceedingly  chaste  arid  elegant.  The  bulk  of  the  better  portion  of 
the  city  is  built  of  brick,  with  here  and  there  some  edifices  of  stone. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  145 

The  progress  of  Cincinnati  has  been  most  rapid,  and  affords  one  of 
the  best  exemplifications  which  the  tourist  meets  with,  of  the  celerity 
with  which  flourishing  communities  are  conjured  into  existence  in 
the  New  World.  In  the  year  1800  its  population  did  not  exceed 
750  souls.  It  is  now  equal  to  that  of  Aberdeen  or  Dundee,  being 
about  60,000.  It  has  thus,  in  less  than  fifty  years,  increased  its  popu- 
lation eighty-fold  !  It  is  one  of  the  most  orderly  and  industrious, 
and,  for  its  size,  one  of  the  wealthiest  towns  in  the  Union ;  and  it  is 
much  to  the  credit  of  its  inhabitants  that,  in  addition  to  what  the 
State  has  done  for  education,  their  city  abounds  with  evidences  of  a 
munificent  liberality  on  their  parts,  with  the  view  of  still  further  pro- 
moting it.  The  stranger  must  indeed  be  fastidious  who  is  not  very 
favourably  impressed  by  Cincinnati,  both  as  regards  the  moral  and 
physical  aspect  in  which  it  presents  itself  to  him. 

We  had  been  already  nearly  four  days  afloat  since  we  left  St. 
Louis,  but  were  yet  fully  400  miles  distant,  by  river,  from  Pittsburg, 
our  destination.  The  boat  in  which  we  left  Cinicinnati  for  the  latter 
place  was  of  smaller  burden  and  draught  than  any  in  which  we  had 
yet  been.  When  the  summer  droughts  are  protracted,  the  river,  in 
its  upper  portion,  sometimes  becomes  very  low  ;  and  there  are  points 
in  its  channel  which,  on  such  occasions,  it  is  difficult  for  even  the 
smallest  steamers  to  pass.  There  had  been  copious  rains,  however, 
for  some  days  previously  amongst  the  hills  to  the  north-eastward,  so 
that  we  anticipated  no  difficulty  in  this  respect. 

Amongst  my  fellow-passengers  to  Pittsburg  was  a  Scotch  emigrant, 
who  had  been  settled  for  about  five  years  in  Ohio.  He  was  not 
above  thirty-five  years  of  age,  and  seemed  to  overflow  with  enterprise 
and  shrewdness.  He  was  quite  a  character,  and  proud  to  a  degree 
of  the  position  in  which  he  then  stood,  when  contrasted  with  the 
obscurity  of  his  early  life.  We  had  not  been  long  in  conversation 
together  when  he  favoured  me  with  the  following  bit  of  biography. 

"  I  was  born  in  Paizla,"  (Paisley,)  said  he,  "  where  my  father  was 
a  weaver  body.  My  mither  died  when  I  was  very  young,  and 
nothing  would  suit  father  but  to  marry  again.  My  step-mither  did 
na  behave  weel  to  me;  she  never  let  me  eat  wi'  themsells,  but 
always  gave  me  my  parritch  at  the  door-cheek.  Man,  but  I  did  na 
like  that  at  a'.  I  was  apprenticed  to  the  weavin'  mysel,  but  I  thought 
I  was  born  for  better  things,  and  partly  to  push  rny  fortune,  and 
partly  to  gie  rny  step-mither  the  slip,  I  ran  awa  ae  Friday  efterneen 
about  four  o'clock  ;  leavin'  my  work  just  as  it  was.  1  was  but  four- 
teen year  then;  and  where  div  ye  think  I  gaed  ?" 

"  It  would  be  difficult  to  guess,  I  am  sure,"  replied  I. 

"  Div  ye  ken  Dunkeld?"  he  inquired. 

"  Right  well,"  I  rejoined,  "  one  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  all  Scot- 
land ;  charmingly  situated  upon  the  Tay,  amongst  the  first  ridges  of 

VOL.  II. — 13 


146  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

the  Grampians,  as  you  approach  them    from   the   noble    carse  of 
Gowrie." 

"Ay,  I  see  ye  ken  it  wee! ,"  continued  he.  "D'ye  happen  to 
know  the  Athol  Arms  in  Dunkeld?" 

"  I  do,"  replied  I,  "  and  a  very  excellent  and  comfortable  house  it 
is." 

"  Weel  man,"  said  he,  "  I  was  a  wee  bitts  (boots)  there  for  twa  year. 
I  then  got  tired  o't  and  gaed  awa  to  Glesgy  (Glasgow),  where  1  was 
a  waiter  for  four  year  more." 

"  What  did  you  do  next  ?"  I  asked,  getting  somewhat  interested  in 
his  story. 

"  I  then,"  he  continued,  "  went  aboord  ane  of  the  Glesgy  and  Bel- 
fast steamers,  where  I  was  a  steward  for  seven  year,  and  after  that  I 
became  travellin'  agent  for  a  speetit  firm  in  Belfast.  You  see  I  was 
aye  loupiri'  up  as  1  thought  I  should,  when  I  left  the  weavin.'  After 
travellin'  aboot  for  mair  then  twa  year,  wi'  samples  o'  a'  sorts  of 
speerits,  manufactured  and  sold  by  my  employers,  I  packed  up  my 
things,  arid  having  saved  a  little  money,  came  to  this  country.  I 
came  to  Ohio  almost  as  soon  as  I  landit,  and  settled  near  Columbus, 
where  I  have  a  large  farm,  well  cleared  and  stocked.  I'm  noo  goiri' 
to  turn  the  knowledge  I  got  in  Belfast  to  some  account,  by  setting 
up  a  whiskey  still — and  I'm  just  on  rny  way  to  Pittsburg  for  the 
apparatus." 

"  Are  you  married?"  I  asked  him. 

"  Hoot  aye  man,  for  mair  than  four  year  back,"  he  replied.  "  To 
get  a  wife  was  ane  of  the  first  things  I  did,  after  getlin'  my  farm. 
It's  nae  here  as  it  is  in  Scotland,  where  there's  mair  mous  to  fill  than 
there's  bread  to  fill  them  wi'.  The  sooner  a  man  get's  married  here 
the  better,  always  providin'  he's  nae  a  mere  striplin'.  Eh  man,"  he 
continued  after  a  moment's  reflection,  "  if  the  poor  Paizla  weavers, 
that  are  starvin'  at  home,  only  kent  what  they  could  do  here,  wi'  a 
little  industry  and  perseverance,  it's  mony's  the  ane  o'  them  would 
come  awa  frae  that  feeky,  poverty  stricken  hole,  which  would  leave 
it  a'  the  better  for  sic  as  were  left  behind." 

"  If  instances  of  success  like  yours,"  observed  I,  came  to  their 
knowledge,  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  it  would  stimulate  many  of 
them  to  follow  your  example.  But  the  worst  of  it  is  that  the  majority 
of  the  poor  with  us  shrink  from  emigration,  their  ignorance  of  what 
it  really  means  investing  it  with  vague  and  undefined  terrors  to  them. 
There  is  no  lack  of  demagogues  to  profit  by  this  ignorance,  and 
identify  emigration  with  transportation.  The  poor  are  thus  aban- 
doned to  the  mercy  of  false  teachers,  instead  of  being  taught  by 
those  who  have  it  in  their  power  to  instruct  them  aright,  that  emi- 
gration, if  the  emigrant  is  frugal,  industrious  and  persevering,  is  but 
a  means  of  exchanging  misery  and  privation  at  home  for  comfort 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  147 

and  independence  amongst  one's  own  kindred  and  countrymen 
elsewhere." 

"  Your  government  and  your  rich  folks  have  much  in  their  power," 
he  observed,  "  both  in  the  way  of  instructin'  the  poor  man  how  and 
where  to  emigrate,  and  aidin'  him  to  leave  the  country,  if  he  is  so 
disposed.  The  consequences  of  their  neglect  to  do  so  will  yet  recoil 
with  terrible  severity  upon  themselves." 

Our  conversation  here  dropped  for  a  while,  but  it  was  long  ere  I 
could  divest  myself  of  the  reflections  to  which  its  concluding  portion 
gave  rise.  What  wealth,  what  resources  were  around  me,  and  at 
any  moment  within  the  compass  of  my  vision,  running  to  waste  for 
want  of  a  sufficient  population  to  turn  them  to  profitable  account! 
What  a  field  for  the  teeming  multitudes  of  our  overstocked  districts! 
Why  were  they  not  there,  enjoying  ease  and  plenty,  instead  of  jost- 
ling each  other  for  a  precarious  subsistence  at  home?  To  what  is 
our  social  system  tending?  Our  daily  national  life  is  a  daily  miracle. 
Great  as  is  our  absolute  wealth,  and  great  as  is  our  credit,  yet  as  a 
nation  are  we  not  constantly  living  from  hand  to  mouth?  Derange 
the  system  by  which  we  subsist,  and  the  evil  consequences  are  im- 
mediately felt.  Increasing  resources  are  relied  upon  as  the  means 
of  ultimately  relieving  us  from  our  difficulties;  but  as  our  resources 
increase,  and  as  our  wealth  augments,  our  poverty  also  exhibits  itself 
in  more  enlarged  proportions.  As  the  fabric  of  our  national  great- 
ness towers  more  and  more  to  heaven,  the  shadows  which  it  casts 
over  the  landscape  become  deeper  and  more  elongated.  We  present 
an  imposing  front  to  the  world;  but  let  us  turn  the  picture,  and  look 
at  the  canvass.  One  out  of  every  seven  of  us  is  a  pauper.  Every 
six  Englishmen  have,  in  addition  to  their  other  enormous  burdens, 
to  support  a  seventh  between  them,  whose  life  is  spent  in  consuming, 
but  in  adding  nothing  to  the  sources  of  their  common  subsistence. 
And  daily  does  the  evil  accumulate,  and  daily  do  we  resign  ourselves 
to  it,  as  if  it  were  irremediable,  or  would  some  day  subside  of  its  own 
accord.  But  the  river  that  is  always  rising  must,  at  last,  overflow 
its  banks;  and  a  poverty  which  is  constantly  accumulating  must  yet 
strike  with  a  mortal  paralysis  the  system  which  has  engendered  it. 
There  may  be  many  cures  for  the  evil,  if  we  could  or  would  hit  upon 
them.  If  emigration  would  not  prove  itself  a  cure,  it  would  at  all 
events  operate  as  a  palliative  until  a  cure  could  be  devised.  But  our 
Slate  doctors  will  not  prescribe  it.  It  would  be  a  new-fangled  treat- 
ment, and  would  not  accord  with  precedent.  Better  spend  millions 
a  year  in  keeping  up  a  nucleus  for  increasing  poverty  at  home,  than 
a  few  millions  for  a  few  years  in  wholly  or  partially  dissipating  the 
evil.  The  prior  we  must  have  always  with  us,  and  so  we  keep  as 
many  of  them  about  us  as  we  can.  It  is  true  that  we  have  colonies, 
ships,  and  money — a  redundant  population  at  home,  and  vacant 
territories  abroad — true  that  we  have  a  large  number  here,  who,  for 


148  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

want  of  employment,  are  necessarily  preying  upon  the  industry  and 
the  energies  of  others,  and  that  our  colonies  only  want  people  to 
make  them  extensive  markets  and  powerful  auxiliaries  to  us.  All 
this  is  true;  but  to  fill  the  colonies  and  relieve  the  mother  country 
is  no  part  of  the  duty  of  the  government.  It  cannot  interfere  with 
private  enterprise.  In  other  words,  poverty  is  expected  to  spirit  itself 
away.  The  government  will  do  nothing  on  an  adequate  scale  to 
invigorate  the  extremities,  whilst  it  leaves  a  cancer  to  prey  upon  the 
very  heart  of  the  empire.  What  is  to  be  the  end  of  all  this?  It 
may  be  postponed  for  some  time  to  come,  if  none  of  the  sources  of 
our  national  life  are  dried  up.  But  let  our  trade  receive  a  rude  shock 
in  any  quarter,  and  the  impending  catastrophe  will  precipitate  itself 
upon  us  in  an  hour. 

Next  day,  having  left  Kentucky  over-night  behind  us,  we  were 
sailing  between  Ohio  and  Western  Virginia.  The  country  on  either 
side  was  now  more  broken  and  hilly  than  any  portion  of  it  lower 
down  the  river,  and  gave  token,  every  step  that  we  advanced,  of  our 
nearer  and  nearer  approach  to  one  of  the  great  mountain  systems  of 
the  continent.  But,  as  yet,  the  undulating  surface  in  no  part  rose  to 
the  dignity  of  a  mountain,  being  composed  of  a  succession  of  small 
hills,  which  appeared  capable  of  cultivation  to  the  very  top.  At  the 
close  of  the  second  day,  however,  as- we  approached  the  frontier  of 
Pennsylvania,  the  land  began  to  heave  itself  up  in  larger  and  more 
abrupt  masses  from  the  plain,  whilst  here  and  there  could  be  faintly 
traced  along  the  eastern  horizon  the  distant  crests  of  the  Alleghanies. 
Thus  seen  at  great  distance,  they  looked  like  purple  clouds  afloat  in 
a  sky  of  azure,  and  delicious  to  me — after  being  for  some  weeks 
accustomed  to  nothing  save  the  level  and  monotonous  lines  of  wood- 
land and  prairie,  which  constitute  the  chief  features  in  the  scenery 
of  the  great  valley — were  these  first  and  far-off  glimpses  from  the 
west  of  this  glorious  mountain-chain. 

Owing  Jo  some  detentions  by  the  way,  it  was  the  afternoon  of 
next  day.ere  we  rehched  Pittsburg,  when, — after  a  journey  of  1,100 
miles  from  St.  Louis,  and  no  less  than  2,300  from  New  Orleans,  and 
all  on  the  bosom  of  two  great  rivers,  passing  through  an  enormous 
region  unsurpassed  in  fertility  and  unequalled  in  its  natural  advant- 
ages, and  flowing  through  almost  interminable  tracts  of  forests  arid 
prairie,  and  by  flourishing  cities,  rising  towns,  and  sweet  smiling 
vaillges, — I  stepped  ashore  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Monongahela. 

Pittsburg,  the  capital  of  Western  Pennsylvania  and  the  chief  seat 
of  western  manufacture,  is,  commercially  speaking,  most  advantage- 
ously situated  on  the  peninsula  formed  by  the  confluence  of  the 
Alleghany  and  the  Monongahela  rivers,  which  here  unite  to  form  the 
Ohio.  It  is  thus  in  direct  communication  with  the  whole  vaiky  of 
the  Mississippi,  and  with  the  Delaware  and  the  Atlantic,  by  m.  itn^ 
of  the  Pennsylvania  canals.  It  will  also  soon  have  a  continuouawtLer 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  149 

communication  with  the  Great  Lakes,  by  means  of  the  Genesee  Valley 
canal,  already  partly  constructed  and  designed  to  unite  the  AHeghany 
River  with  the  Erie,  canal  at  Rochester  in  New  York.  The  chief 
port  of  Pittsburg  is  on  its  Monongahela  side,  where,  throughout  the 
year,  is  the  greatest  depth  of  water.  It  is  connected  with  the  opposite 
shores  of  both  rivers  by  means  of  stupendous  bridges,  leading  to  the 
different  suburbs  by  which  it  is  surrounded,  AHeghany  City,  the  prin- 
cipal one,  being  on  the  right  bank  of  the  river  of  that  name.  The 
town,  partly  owing  to  its  position,  is  very  compactly  built;  and  some 
of  its  public  buildings,  which  are  substantial  and  elegant,  are  well 
situated  for  effect  upon  the  rising  ground  immediately  behind  it.  The 
country  around  is  broken  and  hilly,  the  hills  containing  inexhaustible 
stores  of  the  bituminous  coal,  which  Pittsburg  uses  to  such  an  ex- 
tent in  connection  with  its  manufactures.  It  is  termed  by  its  in- 
habitants the  "Sheffield  of  the  West,"  from  the  similarity  of  its 
manufactures  to  those  of  that  town.  In  one  thing  it  certainly  re- 
sembles Sheffield — in  the  dingy  and  sickly  character  of  the  vegeta- 
tion in  its  immediate  vicinity  ;  the  fresh  green  leaf  and  the  delicate 
flower  being  begrimed,  ere  they  have  fully  unfolded  themselves,  by 
the  smoke  and  soot  with  which  the  whole  atmosphere  is  impregnated. 
Both  iron  and  coal  are  found  in  vast  abundance  in  its  neighbour- 
hood, from  which  the  character  of  its  industry  may  be  inferred.  It 
has  furnaces  for  the  manufacture  of  cast-iron ;  it  has  bloomeries, 
forges,  rolling-mills;  and  carries  on  an  extensive  manufacture  of 
cutlery,  hardware,  and  glass.  The  aggregate  amount  invested  in 
manufacture  in  Pittsburg  comes  close  upon  three  millions  sterling. 
In  1800  its  population  was  considerably  under  2,000,  it  is  now 
30,000.  Its  furture  growth  is  sufficiently  typified  by  its  past  progress. 
Its  canal  communication  with  Philadelphia  is  interrupted  by  the 
Alieghanies;  but  the  broken  link  is  supplied  by  a  short  railway, 
which  crosses  the  mountains  by  means  of  stupendous  inclined  planes 
and  heavy  tunneling.  The  canal-boats  are  generally  divisible  into 
three  parts,  each  part  being  capable  of  floating  by  itself.  When  they 
reach  the  mountains  they  are  taken  to  pieces,  placed  upon  trucks, 
and  carried  across  by  railway,  when  their  different  parts,  being  once 
more  launched  arid  afloat,  are  hooked  together,  and  thus  again  form- 
ing one  boat  proceed  on  their  journey. 

Pittsburg  being  situated  on  the  confines  of  one  of  the  greatest 
mining  districts  in  the  United  States,  no  better  opportunity  can  offer 
itself  of  taking  a  very  general  and  rapid  glance  at  the  mineral  re- 
sources, and  the  mining  interests  of  the  Union. 

There  is  no  country  in  the  world  possessing  a  greater  abundance, 
or  a  greater  variety,  of  mineral  resources  than  the  United  States. 
There  is  scarcely  a  known  mineral  existing  that  is  not  found  some- 
where, and  in  greater  or  less  quantity,  within  the  limits  of  the  Re- 
public. We  have  already  seen  the  extent  to  which  the  gold  region 


150  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

stretches  from  North-east  to  South-west,  although  it  may  not  have 
been  found  very  productive  at  any  particular  point.  But  if  any 
credit  is  to  be  attached  to  the  accounts  which  now  reach  us  from 
California,  the  Union  has,  by  its  recent  acquisitions  from  Mexico, 
added  to  its  territories  an  auriferous  region,  as  rich  as  any  yet  dis- 
covered in  the  world.  The  silver  mines  of  the  continent  seem  to  be 
chiefly  confined  to  the  countries  lying  to  the  west  of  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  although  this  metal  is  found  in  small  quantities  in  some 
of  the  Southern  States.  Quicksilver,  again,  is  found  in  great 
abundance,  and  in  different  combinations,  in  the  northern  and  west- 
ern districts,  that  is  to  say,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  lakes.  Al- 
though copper  is  found  elsewhere,  it  is  only  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Lake  Superior  that  it  has  as  yet  been  discovered  in  any  very  large 
quantity.  During  the  mania  for  copper  mining,  which  a  short  time 
ago  pervaded  both  the  United  States  and  Canada,  some  parties  either 
purchased  or  leased  enormous  tracts,  in  some  cases  consisting  of 
several  miles  square,  for  the  purpose  of  carrying  on  operations  from 
which  they  expected  immediately  to  amass  colossal  fortunes.  But 
like  most  of  those  in  too  great  haste  to  be  rich,  their  splendid  visions 
have  to  a  great  extent  faded.  There  is  no  doubt,  however,  but  that 
there  is  an  abundance  of  copper  in  this  region,  which,  when  better 
communications  are  opened  with  so  remote  a  quarter,  will  be  turned 
to  profitable  account. 

The  continent  is  abundantly  supplied  with  iron.  Within  the 
Union  it  is  found  in  greatest  quantity  in  the  States  of  Pennsylvania, 
New  Jersey,  Maryland,  and  New  York.  There  are  also  extensive 
iron  mines  as  far  south  as  Virginia,  which  are  as  yet  but  very  par- 
tially worked.  It  is  in  the  north-west  parts  of  Illinois  that  lead  is 
found  in  the  greatest  abundance.  The  ore  found  here  is  as  rich  as 
any  lead  ore  in  the  world,  particularly  that  produced  near  Galena, 
which  is  the  chief  seat  of  mining  operations  in  connexion  with  this 
metal.  The  supply  appears  to  be  inexhaustible,  and  lies  so  near  the 
surface  that  even  tfhe  Indians  used  to  produce  great  quantities  of 
lead  here,  before  the  attention  of  the  whites  was  drawn  to  the  mine- 
ral wealth  of  the  district. 

Almost  all  the  salt  made  in  the  United  States  is  the  produce  of 
salt  springs.  The  greatest  hitherto  discovered  are  in  Onondaga 
county,  New  York.  They  are  State  property,  and  yield  a  large 
revenue  annually  to  the  State  exchequer. 

But  with  all  this  vast  and  varied  supply  of  minerals,  the  United 
States  would  still  be  at  a  loss  if  they  were  wanting  in  coal,  the  great 
agent  employed  in  bringing  most  of  them,  if  not  all,  into  practica- 
ble shape.  But  if  there  is  one  mineral  production  with  which 
are  more  liberally  supplied  than  another,  it  is  this.  One 
coal  region,  with  many  interruptions 'it  is  true,  stretches 
southern  counties  of  New  York  to  the  northern  counties  of  AJa- 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  151 

bama.  Coal  is  also  found  in  New  England  and  New  Jersey,  and 
vast  fields  of  bituminous  coal  lie  close  to  the  surface,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Richmond,  Virginia.  The  chief  of  these,  the  Ches- 
terfield coal  field,  is  worked  by  an  English  company.  The  whole 
coal  area  of  the  United  States  is  estimated  at  upwards  of  70,000 
square  miles,  about  twelve  times  the  extent  of  the  aggregate  coal 
area  of  all  Europe,  and  about  thirty-five  times  the  extent  of  that  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  The  coal  area  of  the  United  States  is 
nearly  as  great  as  the  entire  area  of  Great  Britain.  The  Americans 
too  have  this  advantage  in  working  their  mines,  that  the  mineral 
lies  near  the  surface,  or  is  generally  otherwise  found  in  accessible 
positions. 

But  unquestionably  the  chief  interest  that  attaches  to  mining 
operations  in  the  United  States  centres  in  Pennsylvania.  As  New 
England  is  the  chief  seat  of  manufactures,  so  is  that  State  the  chief 
focus  of  mining  industry,  as  it  is  the  chief  seat  of  mineral  wealth. 
Fully  one  half,  if  not  more,  of  all  the  iron  manufactured  in  the 
United  States  is  the  produce  of  the  mines  and  industry  of  Pennsyl- 
vania. Nor  is  its  mineral  wealth  very  partial  in  its  distribution. 
In  five  out  of  every  eight  counties  in  Pennsylvania,  and  the  total 
number  is  fifty-four,  both  iron  and  coal  are  found  in  abundance. 
The  coal  area  of  the  State  particularly  is  enormous,  extending  over 
10,000  square  miles,  being  about  five  times  the  extent  of  that  of 
Great  Britain  and  Ireland.  It  is  as  yet  but  partially  worked,  but 
what  a  source  of  wealth  and  greatness  is  here !  The  coal  mines 
of  Pennsylvania  are  as  rich  as  any  of  those  in  England,  and  the 
strata  in  most  cases  lie  so  close  together,  that  several  can  be  worked 
at  little  more  than  the  cost  of  working  one. 

Not  only  are  the  Pennsylvania  mines  as  rich  as,  but  they  also 
produce  a  greater  variety  of  coal  than  the  English  mines.  The 
produce  of  the  former  is  primarily  divisible  into  two  great  classes, 
the  bituminous  and  the  anthracite  coal.  The  great  seat  of  the  lat- 
ter species  is  between  the  Blue  Ridge  and  the  Susquehanna,  east 
of  the  Alleghany  mountains,  whilst  the  former  is  principally,  if  not 
exclusively,  found  immediately  westward  of  the  chain.  The  Alle- 
ghanies  thus  divide  the  two  great  coal  fields  of  Pennsylvania  from 
each  other,  forming  the  western  boundary  of  the  anthracite  and  the 
eastern  boundary  of  the  bituminous  field. 

The  value  of  the  bituminous  coal  was,  of  course,  appreciated  as 
soon  as  it  was  discovered  ;  but  it  was  some  time  ere  it  was  known 
that  anthracite  coal  could  be  turned  to  the  same  purposes  as  its 
rival.  It  is  now  not  only  extensively  used  for  domestic  purposes, 
but  also  in  all  the  op&ations  connected  with  smelting,  and  forging, 
and  casting.  Its  availability  in  this  respect  materially  enhances  the 
mineral  wealth  of  Pennsylvania. 

Some   estimate   may    be  formed    of  the    extent   to   which  the 


152  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

resources  will  yet  be  applied,  by  glancing  at  that  to  which  they  have 
already  been  turned  to  account.  For  the  figures  which  follow  I  am 
chiefly  indebted  to  some  articles  which  appeared  in  1847  in  the 
Philadelphia  Commercial  List.  The  principal  development  of  the 
coal  resources  of  Pennsylvania  has  been  in  connexion  with  its  great 
anthracite  coal  field,  that  being  most  accessible  to  the  markets  ia 
which  coal  is  now  most  in  demand.  It  was  only  in  18*20  that  it 
first  appeared  as  a  marketable  commodity;  and  in  that  year  the 
quantity  sent  to  market  on  tide-water  did  not  exceed  365  tons. 
For  the  nine  years  that  succeeded,  the  average  annual  receipts  of 
anthracite  coal  at  tide-water  were  25,648  tons.  For  the  next  nine 
years  the  annual  average  was  454,534  tons;  and  for  the  succeed- 
ing nine,  terminating  in  1847,  it  was  no  less  than  1,283,2*21)  tons. 
This  rapid  rate  of  increase  in  its  consumption  demonstrates  the 
availability  of  the  article,  the  facility  with  which  the  mines  can  be 
worked,  and  the  growing  demand  for  their  produce. 

It  was  long  after  anthracite  coal  came  to  be  very  generally  used 
for  domestic  purposes,  that  it  was  applied  to  smelting  and  other 
kindred  operations.  Indeed,  so  late  as  1840,  there  were  no  fur- 
naces in  Pennsylvania  consuming  this  species  of  coal.  There  are 
now  from  forty  to  fifty  in  full  operation  using  it,  and  some  of  these 
are  of  the  largest  class.  Numerous  rolling  mills  have  also  been 
erected  during  the  last  few  years,  so  constructed  as  to  consume  it ; 
and  it  is  difficult  to  keep  pace  with  the  rapid  increase  in  the  demand 
for  it.  Since  it  has  been  brought  into  general  use,  it  has  more 
than  trebled  the  coasting  trade  of  Philadelphia,  and,  as  noticed  in 
a  former  chapter,  the  trade  to  which  it  has  given  rise  has  called  into 
sudden  existence  the  suburb  and  port  of  Richmond,  immediately 
above  the  city,  which  is  now  the  chief  seat  of  its  export.  The 
abundance  in  which  it  is  found,  and  the  ease  with  which  it  is  already 
worked,  are  evident  from  its  cost  at  the  mouth  of  the  mine,  which 
is,  on  the  average,  but  thirty-five  cents,  or  \s.  9d.  sterling,  per  ton. 

The  localities  in 'which  it  is  chiefly  found,  are  what  are  known  as 
the  Lehigh  and  Schuylkill  regions.  The  value  of  the  coal  trade  to 
Pennsylvania,  and  the  prospects  which  it  appears  to  hold  out,  may 
be  inferred  from  the  enormous  amount  of  money  already  invested 
in  internal  improvements,  constructed  chiefly,  if  not  wholly,  with  a 
view  to  facilitating  its  transit  to  market.  The  Lehigh  improvements, 
in  the  shape  of  canals,  railways,  &c.,  have  cost  7,045,000  dollars, 
or  1 ,334, 325 /.  sterling.  The  aggregate  sum  invested  in  improve- 
ments connected  with  the  Schuylkill  coal  region,  is  19,365,000 
dollars,  or  4,034,375/.  sterling.  These  sums,  with  the  cost  of  other 
improvements,  not  exclusively  connected  with  the  coal  trade,  but 
affording  it  every  facility  in  reaching,  the  Hudson  and  New  York, 
make  a  total  thus  invested  of  no  less  than  34,970,000  dollars,  or 
7,285,4 16/.  sterling. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  153 

This  glance  simply  embraces  the  anthracite  coal  trade  east  of  the 
mountains.  The  great  bituminous  region  to  the  west,  extending  to 
the  vicinity  of  Pittsburg,  is  being  also  rapidly  developed,  the  enor- 
mous trade  which  will  yet  spring  from  it  being  destined  to  embrace 
the  regions  bordering  the  lakes  and  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi. 
Large  quantities  of  bituminous  coal  are  and  will  be  consumed  upon 
the  sea-board ;  but,  except  where  Nova  Scotia  and  English  coal 
comes  in  competition  with  it,  the  bituminous  coal  supplied  for  con- 
sumption east  of  the  mountains,  is  chiefly  drawn  from  the  mines  of 
Virginia  near  Richmond. 

Not  only  does  Pennsylvania  thus  teem  with  coal,  but,  as  already 
intimated,  it  is  also  abundantly  supplied  with  iron,  the  other  great 
agent  in  the  work  of  civilisation  and  material  improvement.  In 
most  of  the  counties  in  which  coal  is  found,  iron  abundantly  pre- 
vails. They  are  generally  found  in  close  proximity  to  each  other, 
sometimes  in  contiguous  strata,  offering  every  facility  for  the  pro- 
cess of  smelling.  And  what  is  of  great  importance  in  the  manu- 
facture of  iron,  limestone  is  also  found  in  abundance  in  most  of 
the  districts  in  which  both  coal  and  iron  prevail.  In  short,  there  is 
but  one  instance  in  which  nature  has  thrown  still  greater  facilities 
in  the  way  of  the  manufacture  of  this  all-important  metal,  the 
"  black  band"  of  Scotland,  in  which  the  iron,  the  coal,  and  the 
limestone,  are  found  together  in  the  same  mass. 

The  iron-trade  of  Pennsylvania  has  not  manifested  the  same 
undeviating  progression  as  has  characterised  the  coal-trade ;  the 
iron,  having  been  more  in  the  habit  than  the  coal,  masters  of  relying 
upon  protective  tariffs,  instead  of  upon  their  own  energy  and  skill. 
For  with  all  her  vast  resources,  Pennsylvania  condescends  to  whine 
for  protection.  In  some  instances  she  has  received  it  when  her 
iron  trade,  artificially  stimulated,  has  suddenly  expanded,  only  to 
shrink  again  before  the  least  breath  of  competition.  The  high 
tariff  of  1842  gave  a  new  impetus  to  the  iron  interest  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, and  during  the  four  years  which  succeeded  its  enactment, 
the  produce  of  her  mines  was  nearly  doubled.  A  reduction  of 
duty  took  place  in  1846,  since  which  time  the  iron  of  Pennsylvania 
has  been  more  exposed  to  the  competition  of  that  of  England,  and 
the  iron-masters  are  again  in  despair,  and  predict  nothing  but  ruin 
to  their  own  and  to  every  other  interest  in  the  State.  The  same 
with  the  coal  owners:  who  affirm  that,  they  cannot  withstand  the 
competition  of  the  coal  of  England  and  Nova  Scotia.  The  question 
of  protecting  them,  and  excluding,  for  that  purpose,  English  iron 
and  coal  from  the  American  markets,  is  one  which  rests  between 
them  and  the  consumers  of  these  articles.  Since  the  reduction  of 
the  duty  in  1840,  a  larger  quantity  of  English  iron  than  before  has 
entered  into  the  general  consumption;  a  circumstance  which  has 
met  with  the  animadversion  of  Mr.  Webster,  umquhile  the  staunch 


154  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

advocate  of  free  trade,  but  who  now  stands  up  for  the  exclusive 
interests  of  the  iron  and  coal  masters  of  Pennsylvania,  as  he  has 
long  done  for  those  of  the  manufacturers  of  New  England.  In  pro- 
moting the  interests  of  the  capitalist,  it  is,  of  course,  those  of  the 
labourer  which  he  professes  to  advocate.  He  wants  to  keep  wages 
high  in  America;  that  is  to  say,  the  wages  of  those  employed  in  the 
production  and  manufacture  of  coal  and  iron.  This  cannot  be  done, 
unless  the  price  of  coal  and  iron  be  kept  high.  In  other  words,  he 
wishes  to  keep  the  wages  of  the  producers  of  coal  and  iron  at  a  high 
figure,  at  the  expense  of  all  the  other  classes  and  interests  in  the 
country.  And  what  is  his  professed  object  in  all  this?  To  enable 
the  labourer  to  live  well,  to  educate  his  children,  and  be  a  good  arid 
respectable  citizen.  If  Mr.  Webster  embraced  all  labour  within 
the  sphere  of  his  benevolence,  he  could  not  set  before  himself  a 
nobler  object.  But  he  has  before  treated  labour  as  if  it  were  entirely 
and  solely  occupied  in  the  manufacture  of  calicos;  and  he  now 
treats  it,  as  if  it  took  no  other  form  than  that  of  producing  coal  and 
iron.  What  thinks  he  of  the  artisan,  the  cotton-grower,  and  the 
farm  labourer?  May  not  the  enhanced  prices  for  coal  and  iron, 
which  he  would  extort  from  them  for  the  special  benefit  of  the  pro- 
ducers of  these  articles,  prevent  them  from  living  as  comfortably, 
educating  their  children  as  well,  or  being  as  good  citizens,  as  they 
otherwise  would?  It  is  all  very  praiseworthy  to  seek  to  subserve 
the  interests  of  labour,  but  either  their  wisdom  or  their  motive  is 
questionable,  who  seek  to  promote  labour  in  one  shape,  by  sacri- 
ficing to  it  labour  in  every  other  form. 

The  reduction  of  the  duties  both  upon  coal  and  iron  in  184(>  was 
the  work  of  the  Democrats.  Pennsylvania  was  at  the  time  a  demo- 
cratic State,  but  she  has  manifested  her  displeasure  at  what  was 
then  done  by  her  political  friends,  by  going  over  at  the  last  election 
to  the  Whig  camp.  But  the  insignificance  of  the  majority  by  which 
she  has  done  so,  shows  that  even  in  Pennsylvania  the  agricultural 
body  are  no  longer  to  be  duped.  Both  there  and  elsewhere  they 
have  discovered  that,  by  means  of  the  plough,  they  can,  for  a  time 
at  least,  supply  the  Union  with  manufactured  goods,  and  with  coal 
and  iron,  at  a  cheaper  rate  than  the  manufacturers,  or  the  coal  and 
iron  masters  of  America  can.  The  time  must  soon  come,  when, 
both  as  regards  her  coal  and  iron,  Pennsylvania  can  successfully 
compete  with  the  foreign  producer.  Let  her  wait  for  that  time, 
instead  of  seeking  to  precipitate  it,  by  taxing  the  whole  Union  for 
the  exclusive  benefit  of  a  few  capitalists  of  one  State. 

I  cannot  better  conclude  this  brief  glance  at  the  resources  of 
Pennsylvania,  than  by  adverting  to  the  singularly  advantageous 
position  which  she  occupies  for  uj  imately  supplying  the  home 
market  with  both  coal  and  iron.  The  three  great  seats  of  con- 
sumption will  be  the  sea-bourd  States,  the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  155 

and  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi.  She  has  not  only  access  to  all 
these,  but  is  in  actual  territorial  contact  with  them  all.  By  the 
Delaware,  which  forms  her  eastern  boundary,  she  has  a  direct 
highway  to  the  Atlantic.  The  north-western  angle  of  the  State 
abuts  upon  Lake  Erie,  and  the  whole  of  her  western  portion  will 
soon  be  in  communication  with  the  Lakes  by  a  new  channel,  the 
Genesee  valley  canal,  designed  to  unite  the  Alleghany  River  with 
the  Erie  canal.  From  Pittsburg,  as  already  seen,  starts  the  infant 
Ohio  on  its  long  and  majestic  course,  putting  Pennsylvania  in  con- 
nexion with  the  whole  valley  of  the  Mississippi.  What  a  prospect 
for  this  great  and  rising  State  !  With  such  resources,  and  such 
means  of  turning  them  to  account,  who  can  doubt  the  future  sol- 
vency of  Pennsylvania  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FROM    PITTSBURG    TO    NIAGARA. 

Aspect  of  the  country  from  Pittsburg  to  Olean. — Important  physical  feature  be- 
tween Olean  and  Angelica. — Drive  from  Angelica  to  Portage. — The  Falls  of 
Portage — The  Chasm,  and  the  Upper  Middle,  and  Lower  Cataracts. — Drive 
to  Mount  Morris. — The  Genesee  Valley — Genesee. — Avon. — Scottsville. — • 
Arrival  in  Rochester — Position,  Business,  Population,  and  rapid  Growth  of 

the  Town.—  Its  interior,  and  its  environs Mount  Hope. — The  Lower  Falls 

of  the  Genesee. — Three  Cataracts  again. — Sail  to  Carthage,  at  the  mouth 
of  the  River. — An  invasion,  and  a  pious  Deacon — Afloat  on  Lake  Ontario. — 
Mouth  of  the  Niagara.— Sail  up  to  Queenstown. — Formation  of  the  Country. — 
The  two  great  Levels. — The  Falls  of  Isiagara. 

FROM  Pittsburg  I  had  the  choice  of  several  routes  to  the  lakes,  but 
on  account  of  the  beauty  and  variety  of  its  scenery,  I  selected  that 

by  Genesee  valley  through  Western  New  York.     My  friend  D 

had  left  me  at  a  point  on  the  Ohio,  some  distance  below  Pittsburg, 
whence  he  proceeded  to  Cumberland,  where  he  would  get  upon  the 
Baltimore  and  Ohio  railway,  which  would  convey  him  to  his  home. 
I  was  therefore  left  to  find  my  way  unaccompanied  towards  Lake 
Ontario,  and  proceeded,  after  a  sojourn  of  two  days  at  Pittsburg, 
northward  to  Olean  Point,  on  the  border  of  New  York,  at  which 
point  the  Genesee  valley  canal,  starting  from  the  Erie  canal  at 


156  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

Rochester,  is  to  communicate  with  the  Allegheny  River,  and  conse- 
quently with  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi.  The  portion  of  Pennsyl- 
vania which  I  had  to  traverse  to  reach  this  point  offered  to  my 
delighted  eye  the  most  charming  variety  of  scenery  that  I  had  as  yet 
come  in  contact  with.  The  chief  ridges  of  the  lordly  Alleghanies 
were  at  a  considerable  distance  to  the  east,  but  it  is  long  ere  the  land, 
extending  on  all  sides  from  their  bases,  loses  its  billowy  aspect  and 
sinks  into  the  level  plain.  Almost  the  entire  course  of  the  Alle- 
ghany  River  is  through  a  broken  and  romantic  country,  rich  both 
in  superficial  and  internal  resources.  The  hills  enclose  an  abundance 
of  mineral  wealth  in  their  bosams,  whilst  the  valleys  which  they 
bound  are  fertile,  and  in  many  cases  beautifully  cultivated.  The 
forest  in  this  western  region  of  the  State  has  as  yet  been  but  par- 
tially invaded,  but  every  year  now  witnesses  the  rapid  exposure  of 
new  areas  to  the  sun.  In  many  of  the  valleys  there  is  the  richest 
growth  of  timber  of  almost  every  variety,  whilst  the  swelling  sides  of 
the  hills  are  frequently  enveloped  in  one  deep  dark  mantle  of  pine. 
Even  in  America,  where  there  is  so  great  a  glut  of  timber,  that  which 
borders  the  Alleghany  is  valuable.  Its  proximity  to  the  river  renders 
it  accessible  to  dilYererent  markets,  and  taking  nothing  else  into  ac- 
count, the  increasing  value  of  the  timber  alone  is  rapidly  enhancing 
the  value  of  the  soil  which  it  encumbers. 

Proceeding  from  Olean  to  Angelica,  which  is  but  a  short  distance, 
I  passed  over  some  high  ground,  which  would  have  attracted  but 
little  of  my  attention,  were  it  not  for  the  important  part  which  it 
plays  m  the  geography  of  the  continent.  Narrow  though  the  ridge 
be,  and  unirnposirig  as  it  is  in  point  of  altitude,  it  is  here  the  divid- 
ing line  between  tvvaofthe  greatest  river  systems  in  the  world,  sepa- 
rating in  fact  the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence  from  the  valley  of  the 
Mississippi.  The  waters  of  the  Alleghany,  and  other  streams  which 
rise  on  one  side,  flow  towards  the  Gulf  of  Mexico;  whilst  those  of 
the  Geriesee  and  its  tributaries  find  their  way,  through  Lake  Ontario, 
to  the  Gulf  of  S,i.  Lawrence.  Descending  from  this  important, 
though  unobtrusive  elevation,  and  proceeding  in  a  north-easterly 
direction,  I  soon  found  myself  in  the  charming  village  of  Angelica, 
the  capital  of  Alleghany  county  in  New  York.  It  is  close  to  the  Ge- 
nesee,  and  hemmed  in  on  all  sides  by  bold  rising  grounds,  most  of 
them  wooded  to  their  summits;  whilst  the  line  of  its  horizon  is 
broken  and  undulating  to  a  degree. 

A  ride  of  a  few  hours  brought  me  from  Angelica  to  Portage. 
The  country  between  them  was  of  the  same  uneven  character  as  that 
which  lay  south  of  the  former  place.  The  village  of  Portage,  al- 
though insignificant  in  point  of  population,  is  romantically  situated 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Genesee,  just  as  the  river  enters  the  stupen- 
dous gorge  by  which  it  forces  its  way  through  a  hilly  ridge,  about 
thirteen  miles  in  width.  Immediately  above  the  bridge  which  crosses 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  157 

it  at  Portage,  the  Genesee  is  calm  and  tranquil  as  a  mill- pond,  but  a 
few  yards  below  it  is  broken  into  rapids,  and  goes  brawling  and 
foaming  over  a  rocky  channel,  until  it  is  lost  to  the  sight  amid  the 
dark  grey  cliffs  which  overhang  it. 

The  student  of  American  geography  will  frequently,  in  tracing  the 
streams,  find  the  word  "  Portage"  upon  the  map.  It  is  of  French 
origin,  and  denotes  that,  at  the  point  where  it  is  found,  the  navigation 
of  the  stream  is  interrupted  by  some  impediment,  which  compelled 
the  early  voyageurs  to  carry  their  canoes  round  the  obstruction,  until 
they  gained  a  point  where  the  channel  was  again  practicable.  Here 
was  a  portage  of  no  less  than  thirteen  miles  in  length,  the  navigation 
of  the  Genesee  being  for  that  distance  impossible,  from  impediments 
which  I  now  proceed  to  describe. 

Under  the  guidance  of  one  of  the  villagers,  I  ascended,  by  the 
main  road,  the  long  hill  which  rose  from  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
river.  Having  gained  the  summit,  we  diverged  to  the  left,  into  a 
dense  forest  of  pine,  through  the  twilight  formed  by  the  dark  shadows 
of  which  we  forced  our  way,  until  we  approached  a  thicket  of 
underwood,  through  which  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  pass,  and 
which  veiled  every  object  beyond  from  our  view,  By  this  time,  the 
sound  as  of  "  many  waters"  fell  distinctly  upon  my  ear,  seeming  to 
proceed  from  the  right  and  from  the  left,  and  from  far  beneath  my 
feet.  Caution  was  enjoined  upon  me  as  we  pressed  through  the 
thicket,  and  not  without  reason,  for  we  had  not  proceeded  many 
yards  ere  I  could  perceive,  through  its  tangled  trellis-work  of  boughs, 
that  a  chasm  intervened  between  us  and  a  cliff  opposite,  which  was 
within  two  hundred  yards  of  us.  We  were  on  a  level  with  its  wea- 
ther-beaten brow,  of  which  we  got  but  an  occasional  glimpse,  as  the 
wind  swayed  the  dense  foliage  to  and  fro.  As  we  cautiously  ad- 
vanced, the  naked  and  perpendicular  wall  of  rock  opposite  seemed 
to  descend  to  an  interminable  depth.  We  were  soon  upon  the  verge 
of  it  next  to  us,  but  there  still  appeared  to  be  no  limit  to  the  depth  of 
the  chasm.  The  thick  underwood  bent  over  the  precipice,  so  as  to 
conceal  the  greater  portion  of  what  was  beneath  from  our  view;  and 
it  was  only  by  climbing  a  half-grown  pine  that  we  could  fairly  over- 
look it.  A  scene  of  indescribable  grandeur  then  burst  upon  my 
sight.  The  chasm  for  nearly  three  quarters  of  a  mile  in  length  lay 
unveiled  at  my  feet.  It  was  only  here  and  there  that  I  could  get  a 
sight  of  the  river,  which  was  bounding  from  rock  to  rock,  and 
covered  with  foam.  It  was  more  than  400  feet  beneath  me,  and  al- 
though its  course  was  in  reality  exceedingly  rapid,  yet  seen  from 
such  a  height,  it  seemed  to  crawl  along  like  a  wounded  snake.  It 
was  lined  on  either  side,  and  its  channel  interrupted  by  masses  of 
loose  stone,  which  had  fallen,  one  after  another  from  the  huge  cliffs 
which  rose  in  gloomy  grandeur  over  its  bed,  casting  their  ponderous 
shadows  upon  its  agitated  surface.  The  cliffs  were  as  perpendicular 
VOL.  II.— 14 


158  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

as  a  wall,  and  the  horizontal  strata  of  sandstone,  of  which  they  were 
composed,  had  about  them  the  regularity  and  the  appearance  of  ma- 
son-work. The  rich  foliage  swept,  like  soft  hair,  in  waving  masses 
over  their  beetling' brows ;  its  warm  shades  of  green  forming  a 
pleasing  contrast  with  their  cold  grey  sides.  They  stood  so  close  to 
each  other  that  two  persons  standing  on  either  side  of  the  cleft  could 
converse  together  with  but  little  extra  effort  of  the  lungs. 

On  listening  more  attentively  I  discovered  that  the  sound  which 
proceeded  from  the  rapids  below  was  accompanied  by  a  hoarser  and 
a  deeper  note,  which  seemed  to  issue  from  behind  a  slight  bend  in 
the  gorge  to  my  left.  On  inquiring  into  the  source  of  this,  my 
guide  informed  me  that  it  arose  from  the  falls,  which  were  visible 
from  a  point  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above  us.  Emerging  from  the 
thicket,  we  were  not  long  in  reaching  it ;  and  on  approaching  its 
verge,  two  magnificent  cataracts  broke  at  once  upon  my  startled 
vision.  The  upper  fall  was  nearly  a  third  of  a  mile  from  where  we 
stood,  and  about  half  a  mile  below  the  point  at  which  the  river 
entered  the  gorge  at  Portage.  I  could  see  but  little  of  the  stream 
above  it  as  it  swept  suddenly  round  to  the  left ;  but  the  portion  of  it 
visible  was  broken  into  rapids  and  white  with  foam.  This  fall  is 
about  seventy  feet  in  height.  Immediately  below  it  the  river  is  deep 
and  tranquil,  continuing  so  until  it  comes  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
second  plunge,  which  is  preceded  by  a  short  rapid.  The  second  is 
the  more  stupendous  fall  of  the  two,  being  1 10  feet  in  height,  and 
overhung  on  either  side  with  frowning  masses  of  rock.  Directly 
above  it,  the  bank  on  which  we  stood  lost  its  precipitous  character, 
being  covered  with  timber,  and  shelving  rapidly  down  to  the  edge 
of  the  river.  We  descended,  and  found  a  ferry  between  the  two 
cataracts.  Hiring  the  ferry-boat,  we  were  rowed  to  the  upper  fall, 
which,  when  closely  approached,  resembled  the  three  sides  of  a 
rhomboid,  with  the  longest  sides  in  the  direction  of  the  stream. 
We  sailed  cautiously  within  its  fearful  walls,  and,  when  tossed  about 
by  the  boiling  cauldron  at  its  feet,  were  completely  surrounded  on 
all  sides  but  one  by  the  falling  waters.  Looking  out,  as  it  were, 
from  the  embrace  of  one  cataract,  we  could  trace,  through  the  nar- 
row gate  by  which  .we  had  entered,  the  placid  course  of  the  river 
until  it  reached  the  line  at  which  it  took  its  plunge  to  form  another, 
when  we  suddenly  lost  sight  of  it.  Having  dropped  down  to  the 
ferry,  we  then  crossed  the  river  to  a  point  where  there  was  a  short 
break  in  the  other  bank,  near  which  were  a  saw-mill  and  several 
wooden  huts.  After  scrambling  up  the  bank  we  came  to  a  high 
road,  some  distance  back  from  the  river,  which  we  pursued  for  about 
two  miles,  taking  the  course  of  the  stream  which  was  on  our  right. 
We  then  crossed  some  fields,  and  once  more  approached  the  chasm. 

The  bank  here  was  not  perpendi6ular,  but  it  was  exceedingly 
steep  and  densely  wooded — the  topmast  branches  of  one  tree  waving 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  159 

around  the  roots  of  another.  Looking  down,  nothing  was  visible 
save  a  mass  of  foliage;  but  I  was  anxious  to  descend,  for  the  roar 
of  another  cataract  was  already  in  my  ear.  But  it  was  no  easy  mat- 
ter to  do  so,  from  the  steepness  and  loose  slimy  character  of  portions 
of  the  bank.  By  the  aid  of  roots  and  branches,  to  which  we  clung, 
we  managed  to  descend  for  nearly  two  hundred  feet,  when  we  sud- 
denly emerged  upon  the  bed  of  the  river,  which  was  one  mass  of 
rock.  We  stood  upon  a  broad  platform,  formed  by  a  lofty  ledge, 
which  lay  across  the  course  of  the  stream.  The  water,  however, 
had  worn  for  itself  a  narrow  channel  on  this  ledge,  close  to  the  oppo- 
site bank,  which  was  quite  bare  and  precipitous  for  some  height, 
after  which  it  slanted  off  and  was  covered  with  wood  like  that 
which  we  had  descended.  Pouring  through  this  channel,  as  through 
a  funnel,  the  raging  current  was  dashed  against  a  rock  which  pro- 
jected at  a  right  angle  from  the  bank,  and  which  turned  it  suddenly 
to  the  left,  to  fall  over  another  ledge  about  ninety  feet  high,  which 
lay  not  across  the  river,  but  parallel  to  the  two  banks.  When  in 
full  flood  the  stream  dashes  furiously  over  the  ledge  on  which  we 
stood,  taking  a  perpendicular  plunge  into  the  abyss  below  of  nearly 
two  hundred  feet.  For  the  rest  of  its  way  through  the  gorge,  the 
agitated  Genesee  is  a  succession  of  rapids,  overhung  alternately  with 
steep  wooded  banks  and  stupendous  precipices.  About  half  a  mile 
below  the  third  and  last  fall,  the  cliffs  rise  perpendicularly  on  either 
side  to  a  height  exceeding  500  feet. 

Such  are  the  Falls  of  Portage  on  the  Genesee,  which  scarcely 
one  traveller  out  of  a  hundred  who  make  the  tour  of  the  Union 
either  sees  or  hears  of.  Yet  they  are  within  little  more  than  half-a- 
day's  easy  ride  of  Rochester.  In  magnitude  they  cannot  of  course 
be  compared  with  Niagara,  but  in  the  stupendous  character  of  their 
adjuncts  they  far  exceed  it. 

I  slept  soundly  after  my  day's  futiguing  ramble,  and  next  morning 
proceeded  towards  Rochester.  The  ride  over  the  ridge  was  highly 
interesting.  On  my  right  lay  Nunda  valley,  speckled  with  clear- 
ances, and  on  my  left  the  gorge  of  the  Genesee,  which  I  could  trace 
by  the  grey  crags  which  every  now  and  then  peered  over  the  inter- 
vening tree-tops.  The  road,  which  is  exceedingly  rough  at  some 
seasons  of  the  year,  was  smooth  and  pleasant,  some  showers  over- 
night having  laid  the  dust,  and  the  gig  in  which  I  was  seated  pass- 
ing as  softly  over  it  as  if  it  had  been  rolling  upon  velvet.  The  air 
was  bright  and  clear,  and  on  my  gaining  the  summit  of  the  ridge, 
Lake  Ontario  was  visible  far  to  the  northward,  like  a  deep  blue  line 
underlying  the  horizon.  I  involuntarily  rose  to  my  feet  on  catching 
the  first  glimpse  of  one  of  the  links  of  that  great  freshwater  chain, 
which  forms  the  most  prominent  feature  of  ail  in  the  physical  phe- 
nomena of  America. 

After  a  ride  of  nearly  two  hours'  duration,  I  approached  the  vil- 


160  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

lage  of  Mount  Morris.  For  the  last  two  miles  the  descent  was 
rapid.  I  was  now  fairly  in  the  valley  of  the  Genesee,  which 
extended  to  the  right  and  left  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  The 
Genesee  enters  th^  valley  at  right  angles,  a  little  below  Mount  Morris, 
emerging  from  between  two  majestic  cliffs,  similar  in  character  and 
grandeur  to  those  which  rise  over  it  at  Portage.  A  huge  dam  has 
been  constructed  here  in  connexion  with  the  Genesee  Valley  Canal, 
which  crosses  the  river  at  this  point,  and  passing  by  Mount  Morris, 
proceeds  by  Nunda  valley  to  the  falls,  past  which  it  is  carried  by 
excavations  and  tunnels  along  the  very  verge  of  the  precipice  to 
Portage,  where  it  again  crosses  the  Genesee  by  an  aqueduct.  The 
upper  portion  of  the  valley,  that  which  lies  south  of  the  point  at 
which  the  Genesee  enters  it,  is  watered  by  a  small  stream  which 
joins  it  as  a  tributary.  After  flowing  over  the  dam,  the  Genesee 
brawls  along  a  broad  stony  channel  until  it  finds  the  lowest  level  of 
the  valley,  when  turning  to  the  northward  it  pursues  a  sluggish  and 
serpentine  course  through  a  rich  alluvial  deposit  to  Rochester. 

Mount  Morris  occupies  a  beautiful  position,  about  a  third  of  the 
way  up  the  west  bank  of  the  valley.  The  prospect  which  it  com- 
mands embraces  nearly  the  whole  of  the  rich  and  fertile  county 
of  Livingstone.  Although  at  the  commencement  of  the  century 
scarcely  a  tree  of  the  forest  had  been  felled  in  it,  the  greater  portion 
of  the  valley  between  Mount  Morris  and  Rochester  is  now  cleared  ; 
its  two  banks,  which  recede  from  the  river  in  successive  terraces, 
being  covered  with  waving  corn-fields,  and  speckled  with  charming 
and  flourishing  villages.  The  lower  portions  of  the  valley,  where 
the  deposit  of  rich  mould  is  deep,  are  fertile  to  excess,  being  famed 
for  their  exuberance  throughout  the  country  as  the  Genesee  flats. 
This  -favoured  region  is  the  granary  of  New  York,  and  no  flour  is 
in  greater  repute  than  that  which  bears  the  Genesee  brand. 

Descending  from  Mount  Morris,  the  road  led  directly  across  the 
valley.  Whilst  traversing  the  bottom  lands  it  was  for  two  miles  as 
flat  as  a  bowling  green,  the  wheels  sinking  deep  into  the  free,  black, 
rich  mould  over  which  I  was  driven.  On  gaining  the  opposite  side, 
the  road  rose  for  some  distance  up  the  east  bank  of  the  valley,  after 
which  it  turned  sharp  to  the  left,  and  proceeded  along  an  elevated 
terrace,  northward,  towards  Lake  Ontario.  It  was  here  that  the 
best  views  of  it  were  to  be  had,  and  nothing  could  surpass  the  beauty 
and  richness  of  the  extensive  landscape  which  it  presented;  corn- 
fields and  meadows  alternating  in  rich  succession  along  the  bottom 
lands,  and  on  either  margin  of  the  sluggish,  snake-like  stream, 
which  lingered  amongst  them,  whilst  far  up  the  western  bank,  and 
along  that  on  which  1  was  riding,  the  golden  corn  was  either  already 
cut  or  .waiting  for  the  sick.le.  1  had  seen  nothing  in  America 
which  in  appearance  so  nearly  approximated  a  fertile  rural  district 
of  England. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  161 

In  the  course  of  an  hour  I  drove  up  to  a  comfortable  hotel  in  the 
charming  and  beautifully  situated  village  of  Genesee.  After  dining, 
I  again  took  the  road  for  Avon,  celebrated  for  its  mineral  springs, 
and  lying  a  few  miles  to  the  northward.  There  I  again  diverged  to 
the  left,  and  re-crossed  the  valley,  passed  the  Genesee  by  means  of  a 
covered  wooden  bridge  which  spanned  it,  and  pursuing  my  way  on 
its  left  bank  soon  reached  the  village  of  Scottsville.  Thence  a  ride 
of  twelve  miles,  all  through  the  richest  country,  and  the  last  eight  of 
which  led  by  the  margin  of  the  river,  brought  me  to  the  city  of 
Rochester.  It  was  nearly  sunset,  when,  on  gaining  the  top  of  a  low 
hill,  about  a  mile  to  the  south  of  it,  and  over  which  the  road  led 
through  a  thick  wood,  the  town  burst  in  an  instant  upon  my  view; 
and  few  scenes  could  surpass  in  beauty  that  which  then  lay  before 
me — the  city  lying  below  in  the  midst  of  a  spacious  plain,  with  its 
spires,  towers,  and  cupolas  gleaming  brightly  in  the  golden  lustre  of 
an  autumn  evening. 

There  is  no  other  town  in  America,  the  history  of  which  better 
illustrates  the  rapid  progress  of  material  and  moral  civilization  in 
the  United  States,  than  that  of  the  city  of  Rochester.  In  J812,  but 
a  single  log  hut  occupied  the  site  of  the  present  city.  In  the  short 
space  of  thirty-six  years  it  has  spread  over  both  banks  of  the  Gene- 
see,  until  it  now  contains  upwards  of  30,000  souls.  Ten  years  hence, 
computing  it  at  the  ratio  in  which  it  now  progresses,  its  population 
will  exceed  50,000.  It  is  now  pretty  equally  divided  between  the 
two  banks  of  the  river,  although  for  many  years  the  bulk  of  it  was 
confined  to  the  west  bank,  which  was  for  some  time  wet  and  marshy, 
but  is  now  drained  and  rendered  perfectly  healthy.  The  city  takes 
its  name  from  that  of  its  founder,  Colonel  Rochester,  the  numerous 
members  of  whose  family  have  ever  taken  the  most  prominent 
position  in  the  pleasant  and  highly  cultivated  social  circle  which 
exists  in  it. 

That  which  attracted  the  first  settlers  to  the  site  of  the  future  city, 
was  the  inexhaustible  and  easily  available  water  power  which  the 
Genesee  there  afforded  them.  From  the  point  at  which  it  escapes 
from  the  gorge  at  Mount  Morris,  the  course  of  the  river  continues 
sluggish  and  smooth  until  it  is  fairly  within  the  precincts  of  the  city, 
when  it  becomes  once  more  disturbed  by  rapids,  which  are  but  the 
precursors  of  a  still  greater  change.  Before  reaching  Lake  Ontario, 
which  is  but  seven  miles  distant,  the  Genesee  is  destined  to  take 
three  additional  plunges,  like  those  which  it  takes  at  Portage,  over 
three  successive  ledges  of  rock.  The  three  falls  which  here  occur 
are  all  within  the  municipal  limits  of  Rochester.  At  the  city  the 
bed  of  the  river  is  from  two  to  three  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of 
Lake  Ontario.  The  surface  of  the  country  falls  but  little  on  ap- 
proaching the  lake,  but  the  channel  of  the  river  rapidly  declines,  and 
gains  the  level  of  the  lake  at  a  point  about  two  miles  and  a  half 

14* 


162  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

below  the  densely-built  portion  of  the  town.  The  first  obvious  de- 
clination of  the  channel  occurs  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above 
the  upper  fall.  The  smooth  current  is  broken  by  some  shallow 
ledges  of  rock,  and  ere  it  has  proceeded  three  hundred  yards,  be- 
comes a  foaming  rapid.  In  the  midst  of  this,  and  upon  the  solid 
rock  forming  the  bed  of  the  river,  stands  a  magnificent  stone  aque- 
duct, by  means  of  which  the  Erie  canal  is  carried  across  the  river. 
The  agitated  and  chafing  waters  pour  with  impetuous  velocity 
through  its  seven  noble  arches,  and  it  forms  altogether  one  of  the 
finest  specimens  of  bridge  architecture  in  the  world.  It  is  built  of 
granite,  and  was  completed  about  five  years  ago,  when  it  replaced 
another  aqueduct  of  smaller  dimensions,  which  had  been  constructed 
of  a  species  of  red  sandstone,  which  rapidly  decomposed  on  expo- 
sure to  the  elements.  Above  the  aqueduct  is  a  wooden  bridge,  by 
means  of  which  the  southern  portions  of  the  city  communicate  with 
each  other.  Immediately  below  it  is  another  bridge,  in  the  line  of 
the  main  street  of  the  town.  From  the  upper  bridge  to  the  fall  the 
rapids  continue  with  but  little  intermission.  At  its  first  great  leap 
the  Genesee  here  takes  a  perpendicular  plunge  of  ninety-six  feet,  the 
width  of  the  fall  being  about  a  furlong.  This  is  decidedly  the  finest 
fall  in  the  whole  course  of  the  river,  although  its  adjuncts,  in  point 
of  scenery,  fall  infinitely  short  of  those  of  the  Portage  falls.  Above 
it,  where  the  city  is  chiefly  built,  the  banks  of  the  river  are  low,  but 
immediately  below  they  become  lofty,  rugged,  and  picturesque. 

The  extensive  water  power  of  which  the  city  has  so  largely 
availed  itself,  is  furnished  by  the  rapids  and  the  upper  fall.  Almost 
from  where  the  former  commence,  to  a  point  a  considerable  distance 
below  the  latter,  both  banks  are  lined  with  flour  mills,  tanneries, 
saw-mills,  and  manufactories  of  various  kinds.  Rochester  has  thus 
no  quays  upon  the  river,  a  great  defect  so  far  as  its  appeaaance  is 
concerned.  Like  London,  it  turns  its  back,  as  it  were,  upon  the 
noblest  feature  in  its  site. 

Ever  since  its  foundation  the  chief  manufacture  of  Rochester  has 
been  that  of  floor.  It  is  not  only  the  principal  place  for  the  manu- 
facture of  this  commodity  in  the  United  States,  but  also,  perhaps,  in 
the  whole  world.  There  are  several  mills  in  it  which  can  turn  out. 
500  barrels  of  flour  per  day,  and  the  aggregate  quantity  manu- 
ftctured  in  it  last  year  very  nearly  amounted  to  a  million  of  barrels. 
The  wheat  which  it  grinds  is  chiefly  the  produce  of  the  fertile  valley 
which  lies  behind  it.  Recently,  however,  factories  of  different  kinds 
have  sprung  up  within  it,  and  coarse  calicos,  broad-cloths,  and  edge- 
tools  now  figure  largely  amongst  the  products  of  its  industry.  For 
all  this  it  is  indebted  to  its  inexhaustible  water  power. 

The  great  western  line  of  railway,  uniting  the  sea-coast  at  Boston 
with  Lake  Erie  at  Buffalo,  is  carried  over  the  Genesee  on  a  some- 
what ricketty-looking  wooden  bridge,  not  much  more  thai!  thirty 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  163 

yards  above  the  fall.  Many  a  timid  traveller  shrinks  in  crossing  it, 
when  he  looks  from  the  gleaming  rapids  which  are  shooting  the 
bridge  with  fearful  velocity  beneath  him,  to  the  verge  of  the  cata- 
ract upon  which  he  could  almost  leap  from  the  train. 

Between  the  upper  and  the  middle  fall,  to  which  a  romantic  walk 
leads  the  tourist,  along  the  precipices  on  either  side,  the  river  is 
almost  one  continued  series  of  gentle  rapids.  About  a  couple  of 
miles  intervene  between  the  two  cataracts,  and  the  water  power 
afforded  by  the  rapids  is  available  at  most  points.  In  many  places 
the  banks  are  naked  and  precipitous,  and  of  the'same  character  as 
those  at  Portage,  though  by  no  means  on  the  same  gigantic  scale. 
At  other  points  they  slope  gently  down  to  the  river,  covered  with 
grass,  the  timber  having  been  cleared  away  from  them,  whilst  here 
and  there  a  piece  of  flat  ground  intervenes  between  the  stream  and 
the  bank,  which  recedes  for  a  short  distance  in  an  amphitheatric 
sweep  from  the  water.  These  spots  will  yet  be  occupied  by  streets, 
mills,  and  factories.  The  middle  fall  is  inferior  to  the  other  two,  the 
plunge  not  exceeding  thirty  feet.  Paper  and  other  manufacturing 
establishments  line  the  west  bank  immediately  below  it,  which  is 
one  of  the  pieces  of  flat  ground  alluded  to  above.  From  this  to  the 
lower  fall  the  distance  is  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  the  river  rapidly 
descending  between  them  by  a  series  of  brawling  rapids.  The 
height  of  the  lower  fall  is  upwards  of  severity  feet,  and  although 
inferior  both  in  height  and  width  to  the  upper  one,  it  is  by  far  the 
grandest  and  most  striking  of  the  three.  As  the  surface  of  the 
country  but  slightly  declines,  the  banks  of  the  river  become  higher 
and  more  rugged  with  every  foot  which  is  descended.  Above  the 
upper  fall  they  are  so  low  that  the  river  sometimes  overflows  them  ; 
whilst  immediately  after  its  last  plunge,  they  rise  for  upwards  of 
200  feet  over  the  stream.  There  they  are  formed  of  a  red  crumb- 
ling sandstone,  which  seems  to  be  the  basis  of  the  region  immedi- 
ately contiguous  to  the  lake. 

It  is  a  few  hundred  yards  below  the  lower  fall,  and  about  four 
miles  from  Lake  Ontario,  that  the  vexed  and  agitated  Genesse  may 
be  said  to  reach  its  final  level.  From  that  point  to  the  lake  its  cur- 
rent is  extremely  sluggish,  and  indeed,  when  strong  northerly  winds 
prevail  for  some  time,  the  waters  of  Ontario  are  driven  up  into  its 
channel.  Its  course  is  brief,  but  there  is  no  other  river  in  America 
which  undergoes  so  many  mutations  of  channel  within  the  same 
distance.  At  the  village  of  Portage,  about  fifty  miles  from  the  lake, 
its  bed  is  upwards  of  800  feet  above  the  level  of  the  great  reservoir 
which  receives  it.  Indeed,  in  passing  through  the  portion  of  Ro- 
chester already  built,  which  is  but  seven  miles  from  the  Lake,  it  is 
nearly  300  feet  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  which  it  finally  gains  after 
a  short  run  of  two  miles  and  a  quarter. 

Rochester  is  admirably  seated  for  commerce.     By  means  of  the 


164  THE  WESTERN    WORLD. 

Genesee  arid  Lake  Ontario  it  is  put  in  direct  communication  with 
Canada  West,  with  which  it  carries  on  a  trade  already  great,  and 
almost  capable  of  indefinite  increase.  The  Canadian  ports,  between 
which  and  it  a  direct  steamboat  communication  has  been  established, 
are  Kingston,  at  the  foot  of  the  lake;  Cobourg,  about  seventy 
miles  distant;  and  directly  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Genesee, 
Toronto,  the  capital  of  what  was  once  the  Upper  Province  ;  and 
Niagara  and  Queenston,  on  the  river  Niagara.  The  two  Ameri- 
can ports  with  which  it  is  likewise  in  communication  are  Lewiston, 
opposite  Queenston,and  Oswego,  on  the  south  bank  of  the  lake,  and 
about  sixty  miles  east  of  the  Genesee.  It  also  communicates  with 
Lake  Erie  and  the  Hudson,  by  the  Erie  canal  which  passes  through 
it,  whilst  western  Pennsylvania  and  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  will 
soon  be  accessible  to  it  through  the  Genesee  Valley  Canal.  Its 
capabilities  for  becoming  an  important  seat  of  manufacture  have 
already  been  noticed.  It  is  now  the  third  city  in  point  of  population 
in  the  State,  and  will  soon  take  its  place  permanently  as  the  second, 
standing  in  the  same  relation  towards  New  York  as  Manchester 
occupies  towards  London.. 

The  city  is  elegantly  built,  the  streets  being  wide  and  well  paved, 
and,  where  the  nature  of  the  ground  admits  of  it,  intersecting  each 
other  at  right  angles.  Such  as  are  of  a  private  character  are,  as  in 
most  American  towns,  embowered  in  foliage. 

About  a  mile  to  the  south  of  the  city,  and  on  the  cast  bank  of  the 
Genesee,  is  a  very  rugged  piece  of  grou-ud,  partly  shrouded  in  copse- 
wood,  arid  partly  covered  by  theJrees  of  the  forest.  This  has  been 
set  apart  as  a  cemetery,  and  is  being  laid  out  for  this  purpose  wilh 
appropriate  taste.  It  is  composed  .of  a  number  of  small  hillocks, 
with  deep  romantic  dells  between  them,  the  vaults  and  burial  lots 
being  arranged  in  terraces  along  their  sides.  To  me  it  possesses  a 
melancholy  interest,  inasmuch  as  it  contains  the  ashes  of  some  whose 
memories  I  cherish  and  revere.  It  has  on  the  whole  a  better  effect 
than  Mount  Auburto,  there  being  less  of  art  and  more  of  nature 
about  it  than  about  the  Boston  cemetery.  That  of  Rochester  is 
designated  Mount  Hope,  and  from  its  highest  peak,  from  which  the 
timber  has  been  cleared  away,  sweet  glimpses  of  the  town  are  caught 
between  the  tree  tops  immediately  below.  You  can  almost  distin- 
guish the  hum  of  the  busy  city  of  the  living  from  the  midst  of  the 
silent  city  of  the  dead,  whilst  you  have  within  the  range  of  your 
vision  an  impressive  epitome  of  human  life  in  the  factory,  the  spire, 
and  the  toombstone. 

The  principal  charm  of  Rochester  is  in  its  social  circle,  which  is 
intellectual,  highly  cultivated,  hospitable,  frank,  and  warm-hearted. 
Some  time  previously,  whilst  sojourning  for  a  considerable  period  in 
the  city,  I  had  every  opportunity  extended  to  me  of  mingling  freely 
with  its  society  ;  nor  can  the  busy  scenes  or  the  excitements  of  life 


THE    WESTERN  WORLD.  165 

ever  suffice  to  erase  from  my  mind  the  remembrance  of  the  many 
pleasant  days  which  1  have  spent,  or  the  recollection  of  the  many 
friends  whom  I  have  left  behind  in  Rochester. 

For  Niagara  at  last !  With  what  highly  wrought  anticipations  did 
I  prepare  for  the  journey  !  J  had  a  choice  of  routes,  by  railway  to 
Lewiston  and  thence  to  the  Falls,  or  by  steamer  from  the  Geneseeto 
Lewiston.  Anxious  to  find  myself  afloat  upon  one  of  the  great 
lakes,  I  preferred  the  latter,  and  proceeded  at  an  early  hour  on  a  fine 
summer  morning  to  the  upper  part  of  Rochester,  which  is  about  half 
a  mile  below  the  lower  fall,  and  nearly  four  miles  from  the  lake. 
Descending  a  long  and  steep  hill,  cut  with  great  labour  and  at  a 
heavy  cost  along  the  abrupt  sides  of  the  lofty  wooded  bank,  I  reached 
the  river,  and  put  my  luggage  on  board  the  steamer  which  was 
moored  to  a  low  wooden  wharf.  As  I  was  about  an  hour  before  the 
time  of  starting,  I  hired  a  boat  and  dropped  down  to  the  mouth  of 
the  river,  where,  on  its  left  bank,  stands  the  village  of  Carthage,  the 
lower  port  of  the  Genesee.  I  have  seldom  enjoyed  a  more  delight- 
ful sail.  The  high  banks  which  rise  on  either  side  were  buried  in 
foliage,  except  where,  here  and  there,  the  red  sandstone  protruded 
through  the  rich  soft  moss.  The  channel  being  winding,  my  eye 
was  charmed  with  a  constant  succession  of  pictures,  until  at  length, 
on  turning  a  low  naked  point  on  the  right,  the  boundless  volume  of 
Lake  Ontario  lay  rolling  before  me. 

I  landed  at  Carthage  and  awaited  the  steamer,  which  always 
touchs  at  it  on  her  way.  If  the  original  Carthage  played  an  import- 
ant figure  in  the  wars  of  Rome,  its  modern  namesake  is  not  wholly 
unconnected  with  the  military  annals  of  America.  During  the  last 
war  an  expedition,  under  the  command  of  Sir  James  Yeo,  landed 
here,  and  proceeded  up  the  west  bank  of  the  Genesee,  with  a  view 
to  capture  Rochester,  which  was  then  but  in  the  germ.  The 
citizens,  with  one  exception,  turned  out  manfully  for  the  defence  of 
the  place,  and  hastily  constructed  a  breast-work  on  the  southern  bank 
of  a  ravine,  about  three  miles  to  the  north  of  the  city,  and  which  the 
invaders  would  have  to  pass  to  attain  the  object  of  the  expedition. 
The  exception  was  that  of  an  old  deacon,  who  was  as  brave  as  a  lion, 
but  who  believed  that  he,  could  best  serve  his  country's  cause  by 
remaining  behind  and  praying  for  the  rest,  who  had  gone  forth  to 
fight.  Whether  from  want  of  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  invaders,  the 
valour  of  the  citizens,  or  the  deacon's  prayers,  has  not  yet  been 
ascertained,  but  it  is  an  historical  fact  that  the  expedition  never 
passed  the  ravine.  Sir  James  immediately  afterwards  embarked  his 
forces  again  at  Carthage  ;  and  if  in  his  next  despatch  he  was  not 
able  to  say,  Delenda  cst.  Carthago,  it  was  because  at  the  time  there 
was  little  or  nothing  in  it  to  destroy.  The  modern  Marius  sat  not 
amongst  the  ruins  of  a  past,  but  amongst  the  germs  of  a  future 
town. 


166  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

After  a  stay  of  five  minutes  at  Carthage,  the  steamer  resumed  her 
journey,  gliding  into  the  lake  from  between  two  long  parallel  jetties, 
which  form  the  entrance  into  the  harbour.  The  sun  shone  brightly, 
not  a  cloud  being  visible  above  the  horizon,  whilst  the  fresh  breeze 
which  came  with  cooling  influence  from  the  north-west,  agitated 
the  surface  of  the  deep  blue  lake.  There  was  nothing  to  indicate 
that  I  had  riot  been  suddenly  launched  upon  the  wide  ocean.  On 
our  left,  as  we  steamed  up  the  lake,  we  had  the  low  shore  of  New 
York  ;  but  on  our  right,  and  behind  arid  before  us,  no  sign  of  land 
was  visible.  1  tasted  the  water,  which  was  pure,  sweet,  and  fresh, 
ere  I  could  divest  myself  of  the  belief  that  it  was  the  sea  after  all. 
I  had  already  had  ample  experience  of  the  gigantic  scale  on  which 
nature  had  fashioned  the  other  great  features  of  the  continent.  I 
had  traversed  the  plain,  whose  boundaries  seemed  to  fly  from  my 
approach,  and  had  traced  for  thousands  of  miles  the  river  and  the 
mountain  chain  ;  in  addition  to  which  my  mind  was  fully  impressed 
with  the  immense  size  of  the  North  American  lakes;  but  I  was  not 
prepared  for  half  the  surprise  which  I  felt,  on  actually  finding,  when 
thus  afloat  upon  one  of  them,  the  horizon  rest  upon  a  boundless 
waste  of  waters.  Violence  was  at  once  done  to  all  my  preconceived 
notions  of  a  lake,  one  of  which  was  that  it  should,  at  least,  have 
visible  boundaries.  But  the  mind  expands  or  contracts  with  the 
occasion,  and  so  accustomed  did  I  soon  become  to  objects  whose 
magnitude  at  first  overwhelmed  me,  that  I  frequently  afterwards 
found  myself,  for  a  day  at  a  time,  entirely  out  of  sight  of  land  on 
these  fresh-water  seas,  without  deeming  the  circumstance  in  the 
least  degree  extraordinary.  Lake  Ontario  is  the  smallest  of  the 
great  chain  ;  but  it  extends,  nevertheless,  for  upwards  of  200  miles 
from  east  to  west,  whilst  its  average  width  is  about  sixty  miles. 
Opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Genesee,  it  is  fully  severity  miles  wide. 
Yachts  and  pleasure  boats  deck  the  surface  cf  our  English  lakes.; 
hostile  fleets  have  come  in  collision  on  those  of  America.  The 
waters  of  the  latter  are  ploughed  by  the  steamboat,  the  brig,  and 
the  schooner,  in  time  of  peace,  and  by  the  thundering  frigate  in 
time  of  war.  In  the  fall  of  the  year,  the  American  lakes  are  fre- 
quently visited  by  disastrous  tempests,  when  a  sea  runs  in  them 
which  would  do  no  discredit  to  the  Atlantic  in  one  of  its  wildest 
moods,  and  great  loss  of  life  and  property  is  sometimes  occasioned. 
In  the  early  days  of  the  province  of  Upper  Canada,  and  before  the 
..introduction  of  steamers,  the  passage  of  the  lake  was  made  by 
means  of  schooners  or  other  sailing  craft.  On  one  occasion  a 
schooner-load  of  judges,  clerks  of  assize,  attornies,  and  barristers- 
at-law,  left  Toronto  for  Cobourg,  seventy  miles  d.stant,  to  attend 
circuit.  Neither  the  vessel  nor  crew  was  ever  heard  of.  They 
had  all  perished  in  a  tempest.  There  were  not  wanting  those  who 
were  impious  enough  to  deem  the  visitation  a  good  riddance.  To 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  167 

supply  the  void  thus  made,  lawyers  were  afterwards  created  by  act 
of  parliament. 

It  was  towards  evening  when  we  made  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara 
River,  which  discharges  the  surplus  waters  of  Lake  Erie  into  Lake 
Ontario,  entering  the  latter  on  its  south  bank,  and  about  fifty  miles 
below  its  western  extremity.  It  is  the  dividing  line  between  the 
different  jurisdictions  of  Canada  and  New  York,  where  the  two 
systems  stand  confronting  each  other,  which  are  now  battling  for 
supremacy  throughout  the  world.  There  can  be  but  little  question 
as  to  which  of  them  is  ultimately  to  prevail,  whether  for  good  or 
for  evil,  in  the  New  World.  Neither  bank  is  high  at  the  mouth  of 
the  river,  but  both  are  abrupt.  A  fort  occupies  the  point  on  either 
side.  Over  that  on  the  left,  as  you  enter,  floats  the  gorgeous  flag 
of  the  Union;  over  the  other,  the  ubiquitous  emblem  of  England. 
They  are  now  streaming  quietly  in  the  breeze,  but  the  times  have 
been  when  they  were  wreathed  in  smoke  and  dragged  in  blood. 
There  was  no  portion  of  the  frontier  which,  during  the  last  war, 
witnessed  so  many  desperate  and  internecine  conflicts,  as  the  grand 
and  majestic  link  in  the  long  boundary  which  stretches  from  the 
one  lake  to  the  other. 

We  touched  at  the  town  of  Niagara  on  the  Canada  side,  lying 
some  distance  back  from  the  river,  on  a  gentle  acclivity.  Directly 
opposite,  and  on  the  northern  shore  of  the  lake,  lay  Toronto,  at  a 
distance  of  about  thirty-six  miles,  its  width  rapidly  diminishing  as 
the  lake  approaches  its  western  extremity.  At  the  mouth  of  the 
Niagara  we  were  but  fourteen  miles  from  the  Falls,  and  my  impa- 
tience to  proceed  was  almost  beyond  control.  After  a  few  minutes' 
stay  at  the  wharf,  we  proceeded  up  the  broad  deep  river.  The 
bank  on  either  side  became  loftier  as  we  ascended,  being,  for  the 
most  part,  covered  with  timber.  The  current  ran  swiftly,  but  was 
not  broken  into  rapids,  its  blistered  looking  surface  indicating  at 
once  its  depth  and  its  impetuosity.  The  shades  of  evening  were 
darkening  the  landscape  as  we  arrived  at  Queeriston,  seven  miles 
up,  arid  at  the  head  of  the  navigation  of  the  river  from  Lake 
Ontario.  The  American  town  of  Lewislon  lay  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  river,  but  I  stepped  ashore,  ere  the  steamer  crossed  to 
it,  and  found  myself,  after  an  absence  of  many  months,  once  more 
on  British  soil. 

It  is  easy,  from  'either  Queenston  or  Lewiston,  to  discern  the 
rationale  of  the  Falls.  Both  these  places  lie  at  the  foot  of  a  steep 
ridge,  which  extends,  like  a  chain  of  hills,  from  either  bank  of  the* 
river  across  the  country.  On  gaining  the  summit  of  this  ridge,  you 
do  not  descend  again  into  a  valley  on  its  opposite  side,  but  find 
yourself  on  an  elevated  plateau  which  constitutes  the  level  of  Lake 
Erie.  The  Falls  are  thus  occasioned  by  the  surplus  waters  of  Lake 
Erie  descending  to  the  lower  level  of  Lake  Ontario.  The  whole 


168  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

descent  is  not  made  by  the  Falls,  there  being  a  series  of  rapids  both 
above  and  below  them,  those  below  extending  for  seven  miles  to 
Queenston.  There  the  river,  emerging  from  the  ridge,  as  from  a 
colossal  gateway,  pours  with  impetuous  velocity  into  the  broader 
and  smoother  channel,  by  which  it  glides  into  Lake  Ontario.  It  is 
evident  that  the  Falls  must  at  first  have  been  at  the  point  where  the 
country  suddenly  sinks  to  the  level  of  that  lake,  in  other  words,  at 
Queenston,  from  which,  during  the  lapse  of  ages,  they  have  gradu- 
ally worn  their  way  back  to  their  present  position,  seven  miles  from 
that  town.  The  channel  which  they  have  thus  carved  through  the 
upper  level  is  narrow,  and  overhung  by  frowning  and  precipitous 
banks,  the  rocks  being,  in  some  places,  bare  and  naked  as  a  wall, 
and  in  others  interspersed  with  rich  forest  timber.  Jt  is  one  con- 
tinuous rapid  the  whole  way,  flowing  with  such  impetuosity  that,  at 
a  point  a  little  below  the  Whirlpool,  where  the  channel  is  more 
than  usually  contracted,  the  level  of  the  water  in  the  middle  is 
elevated  from  five  to  seven  feet  above  that  of  the  current  at  either 
side.  But  let  me  hurry  to  the  Falls. 

After  taking  some  refreshment  in  Queenston,  I  proceeded  by  a 
private  conveyance  along  the  main  road,  preferring  that  to  the  rail- 
way, on  which  the  trains  are  drawn  by  horses.  Mounting  the  steep 
hill  which  rises  directly  from  the  town,  I  had, ample  opportunity  of 
surveying  the  battle-ground  on  which  was  fought  one  of  the  sharpest 
conflicts  in  the  annals  of  the  war  of  1812.  The  British  were  the 
victors  on  the  occasion,  and  the  monument  raised  to  the  honour  of 
their  commander,  who  fell  gloriously  on  the  field,  occupied  the 
highest  point  of  the  hill.  It  is  as  tall,  and  quite  as  ugly,  as  the  Duke 
of  York's  column  in  Waterloo-place.  A  rent  several  inches  in  width 
traversed  it  from  the  pedestal  to  the  capital,  occasioned  by  an  attempt 
made  to  blow  it  up  with  gunpowder,  by  a  vagabond  connected  with 
the  insurrection  in  1838,  whose  ambition  was  on  a  level  with  that 
of  the  wretch  who  fired  York  Minster.  On  gaining  the  top  of  the 
hill,  the  road  for»a  little  distance  wound  very  near  the  verge  of  the 
precipice,  at  a  point  where  several  of  the  American  troops  where 
driven  over  the  crags  during  the  conflict.  Before  proceeding  any 
further  I  turned  round  to  gaze  on  the  prospect  which  spread  beneath 
us.  It  was  gorgeous  and  extensive.  The  level  of  Lake  Ontario  was 
displayed  for  a  great  distance  on  either  hand  to  the  view,  large  sec- 
tions of  Canada  and  New  York,  richly  cultivated,  lying,  as  it  were 
beneath  our  feet,  the  broad  blue  lake  itself  forming  a  glorious  back- 
ground to  the  picture.  From  the  top  of  the  monument  the  view  is 
still  more  extensive,  Toronto  being  visible  on  the  opposite  side. 

It  was  a  warm  still  evening,  and  it  was  only  after  a  brisk  drive  of 
nearly  an  hour's  duration  that  I  came  within  reach  of  the  cataract's 
voice.  I  had  been  long  listening  for' its  thundering  tones,  but  could 
not  distinguish  them  until  I  was  within  a  couple  of  miles  of  the  Falls. 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  169 

Were  Niagara  calling  aloud  from  a  hill-top,  there  might  be  some 
foundation  for  the  fabulous  accounts  which  are  sometimes  given  of 
the  distances  at  which  it  can  be  heard  ;  but  thundering  as  it  does  at 
the  bottom  of  a  deep  chasm,  its  mighty  roar  is  smothered  amongst 
the  crags  that  rise  around  it. 

I  drove  up  to  the  Pavilion  Hotel,  situated  on  a  high  bank  which 
overlooks  the  cataract.  A  lovely  moon  was  by  this  time  shining  in 
the  deep  blue  sky,  the  air  was  rent  with  unceasing  thunders,  and 
the  earth  as  I  touched  it  seemed  to  tremble  beneath  my  feet. 

To  my  surprise  and  delight  I  found  a  large  party  of  Canadian 
friends  at  the  Pavilion.  They  had  but  just  arrived,  after  a  fatiguing 
journey  from  the  West,  and,  with  the  exception  of  three  were  pre- 
paring to  retire  for  the  night.  The  three  consisted  of  two  ladies  and 
a  gentleman,  who  were  determined  to  enjoy  a  moonlight  view  of  the 
Falls.  It  needed  no  very  great  persuasive  powers  to  induce  me  to 
accompany  them  ;  so  after  ordering  a  good  supper  to  be  prepared  for 
us,  we  set  out  in  search  of  the  cataract. 

The  high,  wooded  bank  on  which  the  Pavilion  rests,  rises  for 
nearly  200  feet  above  the  upper  level  of  the  Niagara  River.  It  has 
consequently  to  be  descended  before  the  tourist  finds  himself  upon 
the  level  of  the  verge  of  the  cataract.  From  the  observatory  on  the 
top  of  the  Pavilion  it  is  visible  in  all  its  length  and  depth,  but  from 
the  windows  and  balconies  of  the  hotel  the  American  Fall  only  can 
be  seen,  the  lofty  trees  on  the  bank  screening  the  great  Canada  Fall. 
The  moon  being  in  the  south,  the  face  even  of  the  American  Fall, 
which  has  a  north-western  aspect,  was  buried  in  the  deepest  shade. 
We  could  hear  the  voice  of  the  cataract  in  all  its  majesty,  but  as  yet 
got  no  glimpse  of  its  terrible  countenance. 

Passing  through  the  garden  behind  the  hotel,  and  emerging  from 
a  small  postern  gate,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  top  of  the  bank.  We 
had  a  guide  with  us,  and  needed  him.  Our  path  zigzagged  down 
the  sleep  descent,  and  we  had  to  grope  and  feel  our  way,  which  was 
only  occasionally  visible  to  us  by  a  few  faint  bars  of  moonlight  fall- 
ing upon  it  after  struggling  through  the  foliage.  At  last  we  got  upon 
level  ground,  and  as  we  threaded  our  way  through  the  heavy  timber, 
we  became  more  and  more  enveloped  in  the  spray.  Emerging  from 
the  densa  wood  of  the  bank,  we  found  ourselves,  after  a  few  steps 
in  advance,  upon  TABLE  ROCK. 

Drenched  and  blinded  as  we  were  by  the  dense  spray,  which  now 
fell  less  in  showers  than  in  masses  around  us,  for  a  time  we  could 
see  nothing,  although  a  roar  as  of  ten  thousand  thunders  fell  upon 
our  ears.  At  length,  after  recovering  ourselves,  we  looked  in  the 
direction  of  the  cataract,  but  for  a  few  minutes  we  could  discern 
nought  but  the  thick  mist,  in  which  we  were  enveloped,  faintly 
illuminated  by  the  moonbeams.  A  slight  puff  of  wind  at  last  drove 
in  a  little  aside,  and  revealed  to  us  the  rapids  above,  gleaming  in  the 

VOL.  II.— 15 


170  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

cold  moonlight  as  they  shot  and  foamed  over  the  rocky  channel.  We 
could  thus  trace  them  to  the  very  line  where  the  maddened  waters 
took  their  great  leap,  beyond  which  all  was  darkness,  mystery,  noise 
and  turmoil.  We  could  observe  the  cataract  take  its  plunge,  but 
could  not  catch  a  single  glimpse  of  its  descent,  or  of  the  abyss  into 
which  it  fell.  In  addition  to  the  roar  of  the  falling  waters,  a  hissing 
noise  stole  up  to  us  from  the  chasm,  produced  by  the  seething  and 
foaming  river  beneath,  whilst  every  now  and  then  the  faint  voice  of 
the  American  Fall,  far  below  upon  our  left,  would  mingle  with  the 
deep  chorus  which  swelled  around  us.  We  were  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  verge  of  the  chasm  where  we  stood,  each  having  hold  of  the 
guide,  who  warned  us  not  to  approach  a  step  beyond  the  spot  to 
which  he  had  led  us.  Although  we  saw  nothing  beyond  the  rapids 
above  the  Fall,  the  grey  mist,  and  occasionally  Goat  Island,  which 
loomed  in  spectral  outline  through  it,  there  was  something  awful 
and  sublime  in  the  deep  obscurity  and  the  mystery  which  reigned 
over  the  scene,  the  impressiveness  of  which  was  enhanced  by  the 
incessant  thunders  which  emanated  from  the  abyss. 

On  returning  to  the  hotel,  I  immediately  mounted  to  the  obser- 
vatory, from  which  I  enjoyed  a  magnificent  prospect.  Goat  Island 
lay  beneath  me,  as  did  also  the  American  bank,  and  the  branch  of 
the  river  which  rolled  impetuously  between  them,  as  well  as  the 
whole  of  the  rapids,  between  the  island  and  the  Canada  shore.  But 
from  the  verge  of  the  cataract  downwards,  the  moonbeams  were  ab- 
sorbed by  an  enormous  cloud  of  spray.  When  I  retired  to  rest,  not- 
withstanding all  my  efforts  to  get  a  sight  of  them,  I  had  as  yet  only 
seen  where  the  Falls  were,  but  not  the  Falls  themselves;  but  I  con- 
soled myself  on  going  to  sleep  with  the  reflection  that  it  was  Nia- 
gara that  was  chaunting  my  lullaby. 

I  awoke  early  next  morning  with  the  cataract  booming  in  my 
ears,  leapt  out  of  bed,  and  threw  aside  the  window  curtain.  The 
sight  which  then  broke  upon  me  only  deepened  the  impression 
which  the  moonlighj,  view  of  the  previous  evening  had  left  upon  my 
mind.  The  morning  was  still,  dull,  and  cloudy,  and  mystery  yet 
hung  over  the  scene,  for  the  vast  chasm  below  me  was  filled  with  a 
grey  thick  cloud,  which,  surging  upwards,  mingled  with  the  tree- 
tops  on  the  bank,  and  which  now  and  then,  when  a  breath  of  air 
impelled  it,  moved  majestically  upon  the  hotel.  The  whole  atmo- 
sphere around  seemed  to  be  filled  with  vapour,  and  it  was  not  until 
a  slight  puff  from  the  west  drove  the  thick  cloud  before  it  through 
the  foliage  of  Goat  Island,  that  the  American  Fall  became  visible  to 
me.  It  was  on  my  left,  and  about  a  third  of  a  mile  below,  and 
seemed  to  tumble  over  the  opposite  bank.  I  had  scarcely  time  to 
notice  its  snow-white  mass  of  falling  waters,  ere  a  column  of  mist, 
eddying  in  the  chasm,  floated  majestically  before  it,  and  veiled  it 
from  my  view.  Once  more,  although  deafened  by  the  noise,  I  could 


THE  WESTERN    WORLD.  171 

see  nothing  but  vapour,  which  rose  in  successive  masses  from  the 
abyss,  and  went  trailing  in  detached  fragments  over  the  landscape 
beyond. 

Having  hurriedly  dressed,  I  descended  alone,  by  our  zigzag  path 
of  the  night  before,  to  Table  Rock.  The  spray  was  as  thick  as  ever, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  I  was  drenched  to  the  skin.  I  looked  with 
straining  eye  in  the  direction  of  the  Fall,  but  it  was  some  time  ere 
a  rent  in  its  deep  veil  permitted  me  to  get  a  glimpse  of  it.  I  then 
saw  a  portion  of  it,  as  one  sees  an  object  through  several  thicknesses 
of  gauze.  I  could  neither  trace  the  outline  of  the  Fall,  nor  measure 
its  extent ;  for  as  the  cloud  opened  and  shut,  enabling  me  to  get 
momentary  views  of  it,  I  could  only  discern,  as  in  a  twilight,  a  mass 
of  angry  waters  tumbling  before  me;  but  could  see  neither  the  verge, 
the  chasm  below,  nor  the  rapids  above.  This  is  certainly  one  of  the 
sublimest  aspects  in  which  Niagara  presents  itself.  Veiled  in  its 
thick  robe  of  clouds,  it  seems  to  shun  the  gaze  of  every  living  thing; 
and  when  it  does  partially  withdraw  the  mantle  which  envelopes  it, 
it  is  only  to  exhibit,  in  the  midst  of  mysteries,  the  sternest  features 
of  its  awful  countenance. 

Re-ascending  the  bank,  my  first  object  was  to  effect  a  change  of 
raiment,  after  which  I  breakfasted  and  sallied  forth  again  with  my 
friend,  in  quest  of  the  cataract.  As  we  were  not  waterproof,  we 
prudently  avoided  the  neighbourhood  of  Table  Rock,  and  proceed- 
ing along  a  beautiful  path  which  skirted  the  verge  of  the  upper  bank, 
made  our  way  towards  the  Clifton  House,  which  is  built  upon  a  point 
opposite  the  American  Fall,  from  which  the  whole  cataract  can  be 
viewed.  The  sky  was  by  this  time  clear  of  clouds,  and  the  sun 
shone  down  with  great  power  and  dazzling  brilliancy.  We  strolled 
leisurely  on,  and  it  was  ten  o'clock  ere  we  reached  the  Clifton 
House. 

Mighty  was  the  change  which  had  in  the  mean  time  been  effected 
in  the  whole  aspect  of  Niagara.  The  mist  which  had  hung  so  hea- 
vily around  it  in  the  morning,  had  been  dissipated  by  the  sun,  the 
spray  being  now  confined  to  the  white  fleecy  masses  which  floated 
around  its  base,  with  the  exception  of  one  solitary  column,  which 
shot  up  from  the  centre  of  the  Horseshoe  Fall,  and  waved  like  a 
streaming  pennon  over  the  tree-tops  of  Goat  Island.  Taking  my 
stand  under  the  colonnade  of  the  Clifion  House,  Niagara  was  thus, 
for  the  first  time,  displayed  to  me  in  all  its  glorious  outline. 

The  dream  of  my  childhood  was  then  realised  !  How  often  and 
how  fondly,  had  that  moment  of  unutterable  ecstacy  been  antici- 
pated by  me ;  when  oceans,  plains,  lakes  and  mountains  yet  inter- 
vened between  Niagara  and  me !  Now  all  these  were  cast  behind, 
and,  after  a  devious  journey  of  seven  thousand  miles,  I  stood  at  Jast 
confronting  the  cataract.  It  was  the  goal  which  I  had  set  to  my 
long  and  varied  wanderings,  and  it  was  some  time  ere  I  could  as- 


172  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

sure  myself  that  I  had  really  reached  it.  All  the  pictures  which  my 
imagination  had  formerly  conjured  up  of  it  w£re  dispelled  by  the 
reality  before  me.  Its  name  from  that  moment  ceased  to  be  asso- 
ciated in  my  mind  with  vague  and  shadowy  outlines ;  it  became 
henceforth  inseparably  connected  with  a  distinct  and  awful  reality. 
I  remained  gazing  upon  it  for  some  time  in  speechless  emotion ;  and 
sounds  which  under  other  circumstances  would  have  been  sweet  and 
(familiar  to  me,  by  distracting  my  attention  grated  like  profanity  upon 
my  ears. 

It  is  impossible  to  imagine  a  position  in  which  the  inadequacy  of 
speech,  as  the  vehicle  of  expression  for  thought  and  feeling,  is  more 
thoroughly  demonstrated  than  this;  A  tumult  of  emotions  crowd 
upon  the  soul ;  pressing,  but  in  vain,  for  utterance.  It  is  its  great- 
ness and  majesty,  but  above  all,  the  power,  displayed  in  the  scene, 
that  awes  and  overwhelms  .you.  In  all  that  you  have  hitherto  seen 
there  is  nothing  to  prepare  you  for  Niagara.  It  has  no  compeer. 
Your  gaze  is  riveted,  until  every  thought  and  feeling  are  absorbed  by 
it.  You  identify  it  with  yourself,  until  you  feel  as  if  you  were  part 
and  parcel  of  each  other ;  and  unwelcome  indeed  is  the  incident 
which  recalls  you  to  a  consciousness  of  your  separate  existence.  It 
is  then  that  an  overpowering  sense  of  your  own  insignificance  comes 
upon  you;  for  you  cannot  help  feeling  that  countless  generations 
such  as  you,  will  live,  flourish,  and  decay,  ere  Niagara  ceases  to  roll, 
or  its  mighty  voice  is  dumb. 

Immediately  above  the  falls,  the  width  of  the  river  is  about  three- 
quarters  of  a  mile  ;  and,  but  for  the  intervention  of  Goat  Island,  the 
cataract  would  extend,  without  interruption,  for  nearly  that  distance, 
from  the  Canadian  to  the  American  bank.  As  seen  from  the  Clifton 
House,  the  Canada  or  Horseshoe  Fall,  designated  by  the  latter  name 
on  account  of  its  deep  bend  inwards,  is  the  farthest  removed  from 
you ;  the  American  Fall  seeming  to  form  part  of  the  bank  directly 
opposite  on  your  left.  In  hearing  the  Canada  and  American  Fall 
spoken  of,  let  not  the  reader  suppose  that  they  are  successive  catar- 
acts, the  one  occurring  after  the  other.  If  they  were  suddenly  dried 
up,  the  ledges  over  which  they  respectively  plunge  would  form,  with 
the  curtain-wall  of  Goat  Island,  which  divides  them,  one  continuous 
precipice  from  bank  to  bank.  Or  if  the  surface  of  Goat  Island  were 
cleared  away,  so  that  the  current  could  roll  over  it,  the  fall  of  water 
would  be  continuous  from  bank  to  bank.  The  mighty  ledge,  of 
which  the  dry  naked  precipice  presented  to  the  chasm  by  the  island 
is  thus  but  the  middle  portion,  does  not  extend  directly  across  the 
stream,  but  in  a  long,  somewhat  irregular  and  oblique  line,  forming 
a  scarcely  perceptible  angle  with  the  American  bank,  where  it  strikes 
it,  and  giving  the  American  Fall  the  appearance  of  being  occasioned 
by  a  tributary  here  uniting  with  the  main  stream,  and  tumbling  over 
its  rocky  and  precipitous  bank.  The  dry  precipice  of  Goat  Island 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  173 

occupies  about  a  quarter  of  the  whole  extent  of  the  ledge,  one  half  of 
it  being  fully  appropriated  by  the  Canada,  and  the  remaining  quarter 
by  the  American  Fall.  Notwithstanding  the  great  height  of  the 
fall,  which  is  from  170  to  200  feet,  its  enormous  width  gives  it,  when 
the  whole  is  seen  at  a  glance,  the  appearance  of  being  wanting  in 
altitude. 

The  reader  who  is  acquainted  with  the  localities  of  London,  may, 
from  the  following  illustration,  form  some  faint  idea  of  the  magnitude 
of  Niagara.  Let  him  suppose  a  ledge  of  rock,  nearly  as  lofty  as  its 
towers,  commencing  at  Westminster  Abbey,  and  after  running  down 
Whitehall,  turning,  at  Charing  Cross,  into  the  Strand,  and  continuing 
on  to  Somerset  House.  Let  him  then  suppose  himself  on  Waterloo 
bridge,  whence  every  point  of  the  mighty  precipice  could  be  seen. 
Let  him  lastly  suppose  an  immense  volume  of  water  falling  over  the 
whole  of  it,  with  the  exception  of  a  portion  extending,  say,  from  the 
Home  Office  to  the  Admiralty,  which  is  left  dry, — and  he  may  have 
some  notion  of  the  extent  of  the  great  cataract.  The  tumbling  and 
foaming  mass  extending  from  Somerset  House  to  the  Admiralty, 
would,  with  the  bend  at  Charing  Cross,  occupy  the  place  of  the 
Horseshoe  or  Canada  Fall;  the  dry  rock,  between  the  Admiralty 
and  the  Home  Office,  that  of  the  precipice  of  Goat  Island  ;  and  the 
continuation  of  the  cataract,  between  the  Home  Office  and  the 
Abbey,  that  of  the  American  Fall. 

Notwithstanding  the  magnitude  of  its  proportions,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  the  first  sight  of  it  disappoints  the  majority  of  those  who 
visit  it.  The  reason  of  this,  in  my  opinion,  is,  that  the  first  view  of 
it  is  obtained  from  an  elevation  far  above  it.  In  attempting  to  picture 
it  to  themselves  before  seeing  it,  people  generally  place  themselves 
in  a  position  from  which  they  look  up  to  it.  The  lower  level  of  a  fall 
is  decidedly  the  most  advantageous  point  from  which  to  view  it; 
and  were  Niagara  first  seen  from  below,  the  most  magnificent  crea- 
tions of  fancy  would  be  found  to  come  far  short  of  the  reality.  But 
when,  instead  of  being  looked  up  to,  it  is  looked  down  upon,  one's 
preconceived  notions  of  it  are  outraged,  and  the  real  picture  is  almost 
the  inverse  of  the  fancy  one.  Besides,  to  see  it  all  at  a  glance,  you 
must  stand  a  considerable  distance  from  it,  and  the  angle  with  which 
it  then  falls  upon  the  eye  is  much  smaller  than  if  you  attempted  to 
grasp  it  from  a  nearer  point  of  view.  But,  despite  the  first  disap- 
pointment, no  one  remains  long  enough  about  Niagara  to  become 
familiar  with  it,  without  feeling  that  the  reality  is  far  grander  and 
more  stupendous  than  he  had  ever  conceived  it  to  be.  Such  was 
the  case  with  myself.  I  have  visited  Niagara  four  different  times, 
my  average  stay  each  time  being  about  five  days,  and  left  it  each  time 
more  and  more  impressed  with  its  magnitude  and  sublimity.  At 
first  one  regards  it  as  a  whole,  of  the  extent  of  which  he  can  form  no 
very  definite  idea ;  but,  by-and-by,  he  learns  to  estimate  its  magnitude, 

15* 


174  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

by  applying  to  it  appreciable  standards  of  measurement.  When  he 
comes  thus  to  understand  it,  he  finds  that  the  American  Fall,  the 
smaller  of  the  two,  would  of  itself  have  sufficed  to  meet  all  his  pre- 
conceptions. 

No  one  should  stay  for  less  than  a  week  at  Niagara.  There  are 
scores  of  different  points  from  which,  to  appreciate  it,  it  must  be 
viewed.  It  should  be  seen  from  above  and  from  below  the  point  at 
which  it  occurs;  from  the  level  of  the  ledge  from  which  it  plunges, 
and  of  the  abyss  into  which  it  falls ;  from  the  top  of  the  bank  far 
above  the  rapids,  and  from  the  boiling  and  surging  ferry,  over  which 
the  tourist  is  conveyed  by  a  small  boat  almost  to  the  foot  of  the 
American  Fall.  It  is  when  viewed  from  the  top  of  the  American 
bank  close  to  this  fall,  that  its  enormous  width  can  be  best  appreciated. 
It  should  also  be  seen  from  every  point  of  Goat  Island  from  which  a 
view  of  it  can  be  obtained.  The  island  is  gained  by  a  wooden  bridge, 
which  crosses  the  American  branch  of  the  river  in  the  very  midst  of 
the  rapids.  How  a  bridge  could  be  constructed  on  such  a  spot, 
baffles  comprehension.  On  your  left  as  you  cross,  such  is  the  rapid 
descent  of  the  channel,  that  the  water  seems  to  pour  down  the  side 
of  a  hill.  On  your  right  is  the  verge  of  the  American  Fall,  not  a 
furlong  off.  You  are  conscious  that,  should  you  fall  in,  a  single 
minute  would  suffice  to  plunge  you  into  the  abyss. 

Once  on  Goat  Island,  you  are  between  the  cataracts,  both  of  which 
you  may  see  from  different  portions  of  its  wooded  surface,  as  well  as 
from  the  bottom  of  its  precipice,  which  you  can  descend  by  a  spiral 
wooden  staircase.  When  you  descend,  you  are  still  between  the 
cataracts,  being  now,  however,  at  their  feet,  instead  of  on  their  upper 
level.  To  get  from  the  one  to  the  other,  you  have. to  scramble  over 
broken  masses  of  rock,  and  along  narrow  ledges  which  have  been 
converted  into  pathways.  Let  not  the  tourist  forget  to  place  himself 
close  to  the  American  Fall  on  the  upper  level  of  Goat  Island.  If  the 
day  is  bright,  and  he  has  an  eye  for  colours,  he  will  linger  long  to 
enjoy  the  rich  treat 'before  him.  Taking  a  mere  casual  glance  at  it, 
the  falling  mass  appears  to  be  snow-white,  but  by  looking  steadily 
into  it  he  can  analyse  the  white  into  almost  every  colour  and  shade. 
This  he  can  also  do  on  looking  at  the  Horseshoe  Fall  from  the  other 
side  of  Goat  Island.  It  is  from  this  point  that  the  rainbow  which 
spans  the  chasm,  when  the  day  is  bright,  is  best  seen.  You  have  to 
look  far  down  upon  it,  for  it  lives  only  amid  the  snow-white  spray 
which  mantles  the  foot  of  the  cataract. 

On  the  Canada  side  of  the  Horseshoe  Fall,  the  tourist  can  pass 
for  about  150  feet  between  the  sheet  of  water  and  the  rock.  Whilst 
there,  he  perceives  how  the  cataract  is  gradually  receding.  The  rock 
below  crumbles  before  the  action  of  the  water,  arid  the  superincum- 
bent mass  falls  when  it  is  deprived  of  sufficient  support  underneath. 
The  rate  at  which  it  thus  recedes  is  about  a  foot  per  year.  At  this 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  175 

rate  it  must  have  taken  about  40,000  years  to  wear  its  way  back  from 
Queenston.  It  is  still  about  eighteen  miles  from  Lake  Erie,  which, 
at  the  same  rate,  it  will  take  upwards  of  100,000  years  more  to  reach  ! 
It  is  worth  while  to  go  under  the  sheet,  were  it  only  for  the  view  of 
the  fall  which  you  obtain  from  the  foot  of  the  spiral  staircase  by 
which  you  descend  from  Table  Rock.  There  is  no  other  spot  from 
which  Niagara  can  be  seen  in  all  its  majesty  as  it  can  from  this. 
You  are  close  to  the  great  fall,  and  at  its  very  feet.  Looking  up  to 
it  you  see  nothing  but  it  and  the  heavens  above  it,  when  it  appears 
like  a  world  of  waters  tumbling  from  the  very  clouds.  At  its  two 
extremities  the  water  is  of  a  dazzling  white,  from  the  point  at  which 
it  takes  its  leap  ;  but  in  the  centre,  and  in  the  deepest  part  of  the 
bend,  where  the  volume  is  greatest,  it  preserves  its  pale  green  colour, 
streaked  with  white  veins  like  marble  for  fully  two-thirds  of  its  way 
down.  Let  me  repeat,  that  but  for  this  view  it  would  not  be  worth 
while  to  go  under  the  sheet;  to  do  which, one  has  to  change  his 
warm  dry  clothing  for  a  cold  wet  oil-cloth  suit,  and  his  boots  for 
heavy  clogs  which  are  soaked  from  morning  till  night,  and  to  pene- 
trate masses  of  eddying  spray  which  nearly  blind  and  choke  him, 
under  the  guidance  of  a  damp  negro,  who  is  never  dry.  -^ 

Niagara  would  appear  to  greater  advantage  were  its  adjuncts  on  a 
much  greater  scale.  It  is  like  a  vast  picture  in  a  meagre  frame. 
The  banks  are  lofty,  picturesque,  and  bold;  but  they  are  by  no 
means  on  a  scale  commensurate  with  the  magnitude  of  the  cataract. 
It  has  no  rival  in  the  admiration  of  those  who  behold  it.  It  is  itself 
the  only  object  seen  or  thought  of,  when  you  are  in  its  presence. 

The  walks  about  Niagara,  along  both  banks,  and  on  Goat  Island, 
are  numerous  and  attractive,  those  on  the  island  particularly  so. 

Once  seen,  the  impression  which  it  leaves  is  an  enduring  one. 
It  becomes  henceforth  a  part  of  one's  intellectual  being,  not  the 
plaything  of  his  imagination,  but  the  companion  of  his  thoughts. 
You  can  recall  at  pleasure  every  feeling  and  emotion  which  it  con- 
jured up  on  first  beholding  it.  As  I  saw  Niagara  and  heard  it  then, 
so  I  see  and  hear  it  now. 


176  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ARTIFICIAL  IRRIGATION  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. RIVALRY  BETWEEN 

CANADA  AND  NEW  YORK  FOR  THE  CARRYING-TRADE  OF  THE  NORTH- 
WEST.—THE  NAVIGATION  LAWS. 

Buffalo. — The  Canal  System  of  the  United  States — The  Erie  Canal Other 

New  York  Canals. — The  great  and  subsidiary  Canals  of  Pennsylvania. — 
The  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  Canal — The  James  River,  and  Kanawha  Canal. — 
Canals  in  the  Mississippi  Valley. — The  Carrying-trade  of  the  North-west. — 
What  it  is. — The  Region  constituting  the  North-west — The  Lakes,  and  the 
Lake-trade — Comparison  of  the  Routes  to  Tide-water,  from  the  foot  of  Lake 
Erie,  through  New  York,  by  the  Erie  Canal,  and  through  Canada,  by  the  St. 
Lawrence  and  the  St.  Lawrence  Canals. — The  injurious  effects  of  the  Navi- 
gation Laws  upon  th"e  Trade  of  Canada. — The  necessity  for  their  Repeal. 

ON  leaving  the  Falls  I  ascended  the  river  to  Buffalo,  which  is 
situated  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie,  on  the  American  bank,  and  is  at 
present  the  great  entrepot  of  the  internal  trade  of  the  North-west. 
Although  nearly  600  miles  from  the  coast,  Buffalo  exhibits  all  the 
characteristics  of  a  maratime  town.  Indeed,  to  all  intents  and  pnr- 
poses  it  is  so,  the  lake  navigation  with  which  it  is  connected  being 
in  length  at  least  equal  to  that  of  the  Mediterranean.  It  is  beauti- 
fully situated  on  a  sloping  bank  overlooking  the  lake,  and  is  built 
and  laid  out  with  all  the  taste  which  marks  in  this  respect  most  of 
the  towns  of  Western  New  York.  Its  population  is  about  equal  to 
that  of  Rochester;  and  the  two  towns  keep  abreast  of  each  other  in 
their  rapid  progress.  Buffalo  has  more  of  a  floating  population  than 
Rochester, — a  feature  in  which  it  resembles  all  towns  which  partake 
more  or  less  of  a  seaport  character. 

Lake  Erie  is  preeminently  an  American,  as  Lake  Ontario  is  a 
Canadian,  lake.  Both  serve  equally  as  the  boundary  between  the 
British  province  and  the  Union;  but  Lake  Ontario  is  far  more  of  a 
highway  for  Canada  than  it  is  for  New  York,  whilst  Lake  Erie  is 
less  so  for  Canada  than  it  is  for  Ohio,  Michigan,  and  the  territories 
which  lie  beyond.  It  is  British  trade  that  predominates  on  the  one, 
whilst  American  traffic  has  no  rival  on  the  other.  It  depends  upon 
circumstances,  which  will  be  presently  alluded  to,  whether  this  dis- 
tinction will  permanently  prevail.  Much  lies  in  our  power  in  re- 
ference to  it ;  and  the  policy  of  England  may  yet  render  Lake 
Ontario  as  much  a  highway  for  the  great  North-west  as  Lake  Erie 
has  hitherto  almost  exclusively  been.  j 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  177 

Buffalo  occupies  the  same  position  as  regard's  Lake  Erie,  and  the 
great  artificial  artery  of  New  York,  as  Kingston  does  in  regard  to 
Lake  Ontario  and  the  line  of  public  works  which  extends  from  it  to 
tide-water  in  the  St.  Lawrence.  Both  are  the  points  at  which  the 
great  natural  channels  of  communication  are  abandoned  in  descend- 
ing to  the  coast,  and  the  rival  artificial  means  of  transport  are  resorted 
to,  which  the  energy  and  enterprise  of  the  State  and  the  Province 
have  conjured  into  existence.  At  Buffalo  the  lake  navigation  ter- 
minates for  such  goods  as  are  destined  for  New  York,  whilst  at 
Kingston  it  ends  for  such  as  are  on  their  way  to  the  ocean  by  Mon- 
treal and  Quebec.  But  before  considering  the  respective  claims  of 
the  rival  routes,  it  may  be  as  well  here  to  take  a  brief  glance  at 
what  has  been  done  in  the  United  States  for  the  improvement  of 
the  country  and  the  furtherance  of  trade,  by  the  construction  of 
canals.  A  better  spot  from  which  to  contemplate  the  artificial  irri- 
gation of  the  Union  could  not  -be  chosen  than  Buffalo,  which  is  at 
the  western  extremity  of  the  great  Erie  Canal. 

What  has  been  said  in  a  previous  chapter  on  this  subject  renders 
it  unnecessary  to  dwell  at  any  great  length  upon  it  here.  The  Canal 
system  in  America  resembles  very  closely  in  Us  distribution  the 
Railway  system  already  considered.  Its  chief  design  is  to  connect 
at  the  most  favourable  points,  the  great  sections  of  the  continent 
separated  from  each  other  by  obstacles  which  they  have  been  con- 
structed to  obviate.  The  new  England  canals  have  less  of  a  general 
than  a  local  importance;  whilst  many  of  those  which  lie  to  the  west 
and  south  constitute  the  most  practicable  media  of  communication 
between  vast  sections  of  the  Confederacy,  which  would  otherwise, 
for  the  purposes  of  heavy  traffic  at  least,  be  virtually  isolated  from 
each  other.  There  is  no  great  coast  system  of  canals,  resembling 
the  coast  system  of  railways ;  for  the  obvious  reason,  that  the  Atlantic, 
which  may  not  be  the  best  highway  for  travellers,  furnishes  a  better 
means  for  the  transport  of  goods  from  one  point  to  another  of  the 
coast  region  than  any  line  of  canals  would  do.  Most  of  the  great 
canals,  which  have  a  national  importance,  unite  the  coast  region 
either  with  the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Great  Lakes,  or  with  the  valley  of 'the  Mississippi.  The  chief 
of  these  are  the  Erie  canal,  the  Pennsylvania  canal,  the  Chesapeake 
and  Ohio  canaly  and  the  James  River  and  Kanawba  canal. 

One  of  the  oldest  canals,  and  decidedly  the  first  in  point  of  im- 
portance in  the  Union,  is  the  Erie  Canal,  which  unites  the  sea-board 
at  New  York  with  the  region  bordering  the  lakes  at  Buffalo.  Its 
eastern  extremity  is  at  Albany,  where  it  joins  the  Hudson  160  miles 
above  New  York.  Thence  it  proceeds  westward  along  the  valley 
of  the  Mohawk,  passing  through  or  by  the  towns  of  Schenectady, 
Canojoharie,  Little  Falls,  Utica,  Rome,  Syracuse,  and  Palmyra, 
crossing  the  Genesee  valley  at  Rochester,  and  then  proceeding  west- 


178  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

ward  by  Lockport  to  Buffalo.  Its  entire  length  is  about  370  miles. 
It  puts  the  city  of  New  York  in  connexion  with  the  lakes,  far  above 
the  rapids  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  beyond  the  Falls  of  Niagara; 
in  other  words,  it  opens  up  to  New  York  the  trade  and  traffic  of  the 
vast  basin  in  which  the  lakes  lie.  It  also  connects  at  two  different 
points,  though  by  a  circuitous  route,  the  sea-board  with  the  Missis- 
sippi valley;  the  Genesee  valley  canal  uniting  it,  as  already  seen,  at 
Rochester  with  the  Alleghany  River  in  Pennsylvania,  which  is  one  of 
the  parents  of  the  Ohio;  and  the  great  Ohio  canal  connecting  Lake 
Erie,  in  which  the  Erie  canal  terminates,  with  the  Ohio  River. 

This  majestic  work  was  planned  and  executed  by  De  Witt 
Clinton,  Governor  of  New  York  in  1817  and  1822.  He  met  with 
every  opposition  in  carrying  out  the  work.  Numbers  consoled  them- 
selves with  the  reflection  that  if  they  lived  to  see  the  "  Clinton  ditch," 
as  it  was  contemptuously  termed,  finished,  they  would  indeed  attain 
a  green  old  age.  Others  laboured  to  convince  their  fellow-citizens 
that  in  a  financial  point  of  view  the  scheme  would  prove  an  utter 
failure.  But  the  great  heart  of  Clinton  was  riot  to  be  daunted,  either 
by  ridicule  or  by  more  sober  opposition,  and  he  persevered  with  his 
plan,  staking  his  political  reputation  upon  its  success.  The  whole 
of  the  western  portion  of  the  State  was  then  a  wilderness,  and  he 
was  advised  to  postpone  the  undertaking  until  that  section  of  it  had 
advanced  somewhat  in  the  career  of  material  improvement.  But  he 
declined  listening  to  such  advice,  determined  that  his  canal  should 
be  the  great  agent  in  improving  the  West — the  cause,  not  the  con- 
sequence of  its  advancement.  The  nature  of  the  country  favoured 
his  scheme.  In  two  different  places  sections  of  the  canal  could  be 
constructed  for  seventy  consecutive  miles  without  a  lock.  He  com- 
menced his  operations  on  the  more  easterly  of  these  crreat  levels,  and 
after  finishing  that  Jink  of  his  work,  havi  detached  links  of  it  con- 
structed elsewhere  along  the  intended  line.  These  were  found  to  be 
so  useful  in  their  different  localities,  that  the  whole  community  soon 
became  clamorous  for  the  completion  of  the  undertaking;  and  thus 
before  it  was  finished,  the  governor,  who  at  the  commencement  had 
stood  almost  alone,  had  the  vast  majority  of  his  fellow-citizens  with 
him.  At  length  the  great  work  was  completed,  and  a  salute,  which 
was  fired  from  guns  placed  along  its  banks,  at  regular  intervals,  the 
whole  way  from  Buffalo  to  Albany,  announced  that  it  was  opened 
throughout  the  whole  line.  The  result  justified  the  expectations  of 
the  sagacious  and  adventurous  Clinton.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
years  an  almost  miraculous  change  was  effected  in  the  whole  aspect 
of  Western  New  York.  The  forest  suddenly  disappeared,  and 
towns  and  villages  sprang  up  on  sites  which  had  long^een  the 
haunts  of  the  savage,  the  wolf,  and  the  bear.  About  twenty-four 
years  ago,  the  forest  completely  shro'uded  the  region,  which  is  now 
the  granary  of  the  State.  In  addition  to  the  benefit  which  it  thus 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  179 

conferred  upon  New  York,  it  gave  a  stimulus  to  the  settlement  of 
the  vast  tracts  to  the  westward ;  leading  to  the  subjugation,  by 
civilized  man,  of  the  wilds  of  Ohio  and  Michigan. 

In  its  original  dimensions  the  canal  was  forty  feet  wide  and  four 
feet  deep.  Such,  however,  has  been  the  increase  of  the  traffic  upon 
it,  that,  in  order  to  accommodate  it,  the  canal  has  of  late  years  been 
quadrupled  in  size  ;  that  is  to  say,  it  has  been  made  eighty  feet  wide 
and  eight  feet  deep.  This  enlargement,  which  involved  a  much 
greater  outlay  than  that  required  for  the  original  construction  of  the 
canal,  is  not  yet  completed  throughout,  but  is  steadily  progressing. 
The  success  of  the  Erie  canal,  and  the  revenues  derived  from  it, 
enabled  the  State  to  embark  upon  other  projects  of  a  similar  cha- 
racter, but  of  minor  extent;  and  thus  have  arisen  those  numerous 
lateral  canals  with  which  the  tourist  so  frequently  meets  in  the  State. 
The  success  of  the  New  York  system,  of  which  the  Erie  canal  is  the 
great  feature,  is  indicated  by  the  surplus  revenues  now  derived  from 
it.  The  aggregate  cost  of  the  canals  was  about  thirty-one  millions 
of  dollars,  the  average  interest  payable  upon  which  is  five-and-a-half 
per  cent.  The  net  revenue  from  all  the  State  canals,  after  deducting 
the  cost  of  collection  and  of  superintendence,  is  upwards  of  two 
millions.  This  is  nearly  equal  to  seven  per  cent,  upon  the  whole 
cost,  or  one-and-a-half  per  cent,  beyond  the  average  rate  of  interest 
payable  upon  it.  The  new  Constitution  adopted  by  New  York  in 
1846,  provides  for  the  establishment  of  a  sinking  fund,  for  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  debt ;  the  object  being  to  pay  both  principal  and 
interest  in  the  course  of  about  twenty  years.  The  annual  revenues 
of  the  canals  will  then  be  available  for  further  improvements,  or  for 
defraying  the  expenses  of  civil  government  in  the  State.  As  these 
expenses  do  not  exceed  a  million  and  a  quarter  dollars  per  annum, 
and  as  the  net  receipts  from  the  canals  will  be  at  least  three  millions 
per  annum  twenty  years  hence,  it  is  obvious  that,  in  these  magnifi- 
cent works,  the  New  Yorkers  have  not  only  a  means  of  ultimately 
ridding  themselves  of  taxation  for  the  support  of  their  government, 
but  of  carrying  on  the  work  of  internal  improvement  to  an  almost 
indefinite  extent. 

The  Pennsylvanians,  in  constructing  their  great  canal,  which  pur- 
sues a  line  almost  parallel  to  that  of  the  Erie  canal,  had  a  double 
object  in  view — that  of  facilitating  their  own  internal,  particularly 
their  mineral,  trade,  and  of  creating  a  rival  to  the  New  York  canal 
within  the  limits  of  Pennsylvania.  It  interferes  but  little,  however, 
with  the  traffic  of  the  Erie  canal ;  a  result  which  has  not  a  little 
contributed  to  plunge  Pennsylvania  into  those  financial  embarrass- 
ments, out  of  which  she  now  begins  to  see  her  way.  Her  great 
western  line  of  canal  is  of  immense  service  to  her  own  internal 
trade,  and  being  the  most  northerly  of  the  canals  which  unite  the 
sea-board  directly  with  the  Mississippi  valley,  will  yet  play  an  im- 


180  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

portant  part  in  the  conduct  of  the  trade  between  them.  As  is  the 
case  with  its  great  rival,  the  Pennsylvania  canal  is  the  chief  trunk 
line  of  communication  from  one  extremity  of  the  State  to  the  other, 
many  lateral  branches,  or  tributary  canals,  leading  into  it.  There  are 
several  other  improvements  of  this  kind  in  Pennsylvania  which  have 
no  direct  connexion  with  its  great  canal  system. 

The  next  great  public  work  of  the  kind  with  which  we  meet  is 
the  Chesapeake  and  Ohio  canal,  extending  along  the  borders  of 
Maryland  and  Virginia,  but  being  chiefly,  if  not  exclusively,  within 
the  limits  of  the  former.  It  commences  at  Alexandria,  in  the  State 
of  Virginia,  where  it  unites  with  the  Potomac;  and,  after  ascending 
the  Virginia  bank  of  the  river  for  about  seven  miles,  crosses  it  by 
a  stupendous  wooden  aqueduct,  on  stone  piers,  at  Georgetown,  after 
which  it.  ascends  the  valley  of  the  Potomac  on  the  Maryland  side. 
The  object  of  this  canal  is  to  unite  the  Chesapeake  Bay  with  the 
valley  of  the  Ohio;  in  other  words,  to  open  a  direct  communication 
further  south  than  Pennsylvania,  between  the  great  valley  and  the 
sea-board.  The  project,  however,  is  not  yet  completed,  the  canal 
having  only  obtained  about  180  miles  of  its  intended  length.  It  will  be 
some  time  ere  the  remainder  is  constructed,  but  the  necessities  of  the 
growing  trade  of  the  country  on  both  sides  of  the  Alleghanies  forbid 
the  notion  of  its  continuing  very  long  in  its  present  incomplete  state. 

This  canal  has  much  more  of  a  national  importance  attached  to 
it  than  the  next  and -most  southerly  .of  the  great  lines  of  improve- 
ment, designed  to  facilitate  the  access  of  the  products  of  the  great 
valley  to  the  ocean.  The  James  River  and  Kariawha  canal,  which 
is  also  unfinished,  is  designed  to  unite  the  river  at  Richmond  with 
one  of  the  navigable  tributaries  of  the  Ohio.  This,  when  completed, 
will  constitute  another  link  of  connexion  between  the  sea-board  and 
the  Mississippi  valley.  It  would  appear,  however,  that  this  canal  is 
destined  to  have  more  of  a  local  than  a  great  sectional  importance 
annexed  to  it.  It  will  be  of  immense  advantage  to  the  State  of  Vir- 
ginia, in  which  it  lies,  particularly  to  the  central  valley,  and  the 
portion  of  the  State  west  of  the  Alleghanies,  to  which  markets  were 
formerly  very  difficult  of  access.  But  the  chief  trade  between  the 
sea-board  and  the  northern  section  of  the  Mississippi  valley  will  be 
carried  on  by  means  of  the  more  northerly  lines  of  communication, 
passing  through  Maryland,  Pennsylvania,  and  New  York.  There 
are  numerous  canals  in  the  Southern  States,  but  none  on  the  same 
magnificent  scale  as  those  just  alluded  to.  Their  chief  object  is  to 
unite  the  great  navigable  streams  which  irrigate  the  eastern  section 
of  the  valley,  some  of  which  fall  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  others 
into  the  Ohio.  The  very  skeleton  of  the  canal  system  which  will 
one  day  irrigate  the  valley  on  both  sides  of  the  Mississippi,  is  not 
yet  formed.  The  natural  irrigation 'of  the  region  is  on  so  magnifi- 
cent a  scale,  that  it  will  be  long  ere  its  increasing  population  occupy 


THE   WESTERN  WORLD.  181 

all  the  banks  of  its  great  streams.  Until  that  is  done,  and  multitudes 
of  industrious  people  are  settled  back  from  the  rivers,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  few  of  obvious  utility  to  large  sections  of  the  country, 
canals  will  not  multiply  with  great  rapidity  in  the  valley.  Those 
which  descend  into  it  through  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois,  are  not  of 
mere  local  importance,  their  object  being  similar  to  that  of  the 
eastern  and  western  lines,  passing  through  New  York,  Pennsylvania, 
Maryland,  and  Virginia,  to  unite  one  great  section  of  the  Union  with 
another ;  in  other  words,  to  connect  the  valley  with  the  region  of 
the  lakes,  and,  consequently,  with  the  sea-board. 

Such  is  the  scope  taken  by  the  canal  system  of  the  United  States 
as  already  developed.  It  has  been  laid  out  upon  a  scale  which  will  en- 
able it  to  meet  the  wants  of  double  the  present  population  of  the 
country.  It  will  not  be  long,  however,  ere  it  undergoes  considerable 
expansion,  that  it  may  meet  anticipated  exigencies  ;  for  many  of  the 
present  generation  will  live  to  see  the  population  of  America  trebled, 
if  not  quadrupled.  The  feature  in  this  gigantic  system  most  inter- 
esting to  us  is  decidedly  that  which  it  exhibits  in  the  State  qf  New 
York ;  not  only  from  the  contiguity  of  that  State  to  our  own  Pro- 
vinces, but  also  from  the  rivalry  which  exists  between  it  and  Canada 
for  the  carrying-trade  of  the  North-west.  As  this  is  a  struggle  the 
issue  of  which  will  be  materially  affected  by  the  continuance  or  the 
abrogation  of  the  navigation  laws  as  regards  the  St.  Lawrence,  I 
cannot  here  do  better  than  devote  the  remainder  of  this  chapter  to  an 
explanation  of  it. 

In  doing  so,  let  me  first  describe  what  the  carrying-trade  of  the 
North-west  is.  The  region  known  in  America  as  the  North-west, 
comprehends  not  only  the  whole  of  that  portion  of  the  United  Slates 
territory  lying  in  the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  west  of  the  lower 
end  of  Lake  Erie,  but  also  a  considerable  section  of  the  northern 
side  of  the  valley  of  the  Ohio,  and  the  upper  portion  of  that  of  the 
Mississippi.  It  thus  embraces  an  enormous  area,  comprising  a 
small  part  of  Pennsylvania,  the  greater  portion  of  Ohio,  the  whole  of 
Michigan,  the  greater  parts  of  Indiana  and  Illinois,  the  whole  of 
Wisconsin,  and  nearly  all  Iowa,  In  other  words,  it  includes  nearly 
the  whole  of  six  of  the  States  of  the  Union,  lying  south  and  west  of 
the  lakes,  as  well  as,  for  the  purposes  of  this  inquiry,  all  that  portion 
of  Western  Canada  which  lies  upon  Lake  Erie,  and  which  consti- 
tutes the  eastern  and  northern  shores  of  Lake  Huron,  and  the  north 
coast  of  Lake  Superior.  The  whole  of  this  immense  expanse  of 
country,  with  the  exception  of  the  part  of  Canada  lying  to  the  north 
of  the  two  last-mentioned  lakes,  is  fertile  and  arable,  comprehending 
indeed  the  finest  grain-growing  districts,  not  only  in  Canada,  but 
also  in  the  United  States.  To  this  may  be  added,  as  being  involved 
in  the  question,  the  greater  portion  of  Western  New  York;  in  other 
words,  the  granary  of  that  important  State.  The  population  of  this 

VOL.  II.— 16 


182  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

enormous  region  is  at  present  between  five  and  six  millions,  being 
the  most  active  and  enterprising  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  continent. 
It  is  here,  too,  that  the  population  of  the  country  is  increasing  at  the 
most  rapid  ratio.  Some  notion  may  be  formed  of  the  rate  of  its 
increase,  when  it  is  known  that,  during  the  five  years  ending  in  1845, 
Illinois  added  about  forty-five  per  cent,  to  the  number  of  its  people, 
whilst  the  population  of  Michigan  during  the  same  period  was 
increased  by  nearly  fifty  per  cent.  In  1850,  the  population  of  each  of 
these  States  will  be  double  what  it  was  in  1840;  notwithstanding  the 
stream  of  emigration  which  has  latterly  set  in  for  California  and  the 
Pacific. 

Partially  peopled  and  partially  cultivated  as  it  yet  is,  the  trade  of 
this  great  region  has  already  attained  a  gigantic  expansion.  It  is  al- 
most exclusively  agricultural,  and  it  is  to  agriculture  that  it  will 
mainly  look  as  the  source  of  its  future  wealth.  Its  surplus  products 
will  procure  for  it  from  other  quarters  the  necessities  and  the  luxuries 
of  life.  Its  annual  surplus  is  already  great,  and  is  being  constantly 
exchanged,  either  in  New  England  or  in  foreign  markets,  for  such 
commodities  as  its  increasing  millions  may  be  in  want  of.  The  con- 
veyance of  its  produce  to  the  sea-board,  and  the  transport  into  the 
interior  from  the  coast  of  such  articles  as  it  receives  for  consumption 
in  exchange  for  them,  constitutes  what  is  called  the  carrying-trade  of 
the  North-west.  It  is  to  lead  this  trade  through  its  own  territory  that 
Canada  is  now  competing  with  New  York  to  become  the  forwarder, 
at  present  of  five  millions,  and  prospectively  of  fifty  millions  of 
people. 

It  is  not  only  in  the  vast  extent  of  the  region  contemplated,  in 
the  fertility  and  varied  capabilities  of  its  soil,  and  in  the  unquestioned 
enterprise  of  its  inhabitants,  that  consist  the  elements  of  a  great 
trade.  Situated  far  in  the  interior,  nature  has  been  lavish  in  the  ad- 
vantages she  has  conferred  upon  it.  By  means  of  the  great  lakes, 
their  tributaries  and  connecting  links,  it  can  not  only  carry  on  an 
extensive  trade  within  itself,  but  also  approach  from  the  interior  of 
the  continent  to  within  300  miles  of  tidewater.  The  facilities  thus 
thrown  in  its  way  for  trading,  not  only  with  itself  but  with  the 
foreign  world,  has  a  manifest  tendency  still  more  rapidly  to  develope 
its  resources  and  extend  the  limits  of  its  wants.  The  lake  trade  of 
the  United  States,  comprising  that  carried  on  with  Canada,  is  second 
only  in  importance  to  that  of  the  sea-board  itself.  Had  it  been 
necessary  to  provide  it  throughout  its  length  and  breadth,  with  artifi- 
cial channels  of  communication  with  the  coast,  it  would  have  been 
long  ere  the  means  could  have  been  secured  to  meet  so  enormous 
an  outlay.  But  its  great  inland  seas  not  only  enable  it  to  transport 
its  produce  at  comparatively  little  cosjt,  to  a  point  not  far  from  the 
ocean,  but  also  afford  it  all  the  facilities  for  traffic  which  an  extensive 
coast  implies.  With  the  single  exception  of  Iowa,  there  is  not  one 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  183 

of  the  States  named  but  has  a  lake  coast,  of  more  or  less  extent, 
each  having  its  own  harbours  and  lake  trade.  The  aggregate  lake 
coast  which  the  Northwest  possesses,  taking  into  account  only  that 
of  the  five  principal  lakes,  constituting  the  great  freshwater  chain  of 
the  continent,  extends  for  upwards  of  4,000  miles.  This  is  more 
than  the  whole  circumference  of  Great  Britain  arid  that  of  Ireland 
in  addition.  The  lake  coast  of  Canada  alone,  from  the  western  ex- 
tremity of  Lake  Superior  to  the  eastern  limit  of  Lake  Ontario,  extends 
in  one  continuous  line  for  nearly  2,000  miles.  The  great  inland 
highway  which  nature  has  bountifully  provided  for  it  is  thus  acces- 
sible to  almost  every  portion  of  this  highly  favoured  region, 
stimulating  its  occupants  to  additional  activity  from  the  facilities 
which  it  affords  them  for  disposing  of  their  produce.  The  simple 
question  between  Canada  and  New  York  is,  which  can  best  supply 
the  link  wanted  to  connect  the  North-west  with  the  ocean. 

A  glance  at  the  map  will  suffice  to  show  that,  for  a  considerable 
time  to  come,  the  lakes,  as  far  down  as  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie,  will 
form  the  common  highway  for  all  parties  inhabiting  their  shores. 
When  population  greatly  increases  along  the  Canada  coast  of  Lake 
Huron,  the  northern  portion  of  Michigan,  the  shores  of  Lake 
Superior,  and  for  some  distance  down  both  banks  of  Lake  Michigan, 
it  is  not  improbable  that  the  exigencies  of  the  transport  trade  of  these 
regions  will  then  lead  to  the  opening  of  a  canal  communication 
between  the  Georgian  Bay  on  Lake  Huron,  through  Lake  Simcoeto 
Lake  Ontario,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Toronto.  The  whole  dis- 
tance from  Penetanguishine  on  Georgian  Bay,  to  Toronto  on  Lake 
Ontario^  is  not  over  ninety  miles,  Lake  Simcoe,  which  is  thirty-five 
miles  long,  lying  in  the  direct  line  between  them.  This  would  limit 
the  cutting  to  about  fifty-five  miles,  nearly  forty  miles  of  land  inter- 
vening between  Toronto  and  the  southern  end  of  Lake  Simcoe,  and 
but  little  more  than  fifteen  dividing  its  northern  extremity  from  the 
great  arm  of  Lake  Huron  alluded  to.  Lake  Ontario  will  then  be 
accessible  to  a  large  portion  of  the  North-west,  without  resorting  to 
the  circuitous  navigation  of  the  southern  section  of  Lake  Huron,  the 
River  and  Lake  St.  Clair,  and  Lake  Erie.  But  for  the  present  we 
may  regard  the  lakes  to  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie  as  ihe  common  and 
most  practicable  highway  for  the  whole  region,  the  foot  of  Lake 
Erie  being,  therefore,  the  point  upon  which,  for  a  long  time  to  come, 
its  accumulated  products  will  be  poured.  This  will  always  be  the 
case  as  regards  the  products  of  the  great  bulk  of  Michigan,  the 
northern  section  of  Ohio,  a  portion  of  Pennsylvania  and  Western 
New  York,  and  a  large  part  of  the  best  portion  of  Upper  Canada.  It 
is  here  then — at  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie — that  the  rival  routes  to  the 
ocean  commence. 

I  have  already  described  the  means  provided  by  the  State  of  New 
York  for  continuing,  through  its  own  territory,  the  transport-trade  of 


184  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

the  lakes.  The  produce  transported  from  the  interior  to  Buffalo, 
may  thence  be  conveyed  by  the  Erie  canal  to  Albany  on  the  Hudson, 
by  which  it  can  descend  to  New  York.  But  before  considering  the 
respective  merits  of  the  rival  routes,  it  may  be  as  well,  that  through 
New  York  having  been  described,  to  give  an  account  of  the  route 
through  Canada. 

Whilst  it  is  the  object  of  the  New  Yorker  to  make  his  chief  river, 
the  Hudson,  available  for  his  purpose,  that,  of  the  Canadian  is  to  do 
the  same  by  the  St.  Lawrence.  Had  the  navigation  of  this  noble 
stream  been  continuous  from  the  Lakes  to  the  ocean,  the  struggle, 
if  it  would  ever  have  arisen,  would  not  have  been  of  long  duration. 
But  it  meets  with  frequent  and  formidable  interruptions,  to  the  re- 
moval of  which  the  government  and  the  people  of  the  province 
have  applied  themselves  with  vigour,  perseverance,  and  complete 
success. 

The  first  interruption  to  the  navigation  of  the  St.  Lawrence  down- 
wards occurs  a  little  below  Lake  Erie,  developing  itself  in  the 
formidable  character  of  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  To  obviate  this 
difficulty,  the  Welland  canal  has  been  constructed  through  the  rich 
agricultural  district  intervening  between  Lake  Erie  and  Lake 
Ontario.  The  canal  starts  from  a  point  on  the  Canada  shore  of 
Lake  Erie,  a  considerable  distance  above  Buffalo,  and  enters  Lake 
Ontario  at  St.  Catherine's,  a  little  west  of  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara 
River.  From  the  latter  point,  nearly  the  whole  length  of  Lake 
Ontario  lies  in  the  direct  route  to  the  ocran.  At  the  foot  of  the  lake 
is  the  town  of  Kingston,  from  which  the  St.  Lawrence  is  navigable 
through  the  "Thousand  Islands"  to  Brockville,  and  thence  to 
"Dickenson's  Landing,"  ahout  120  miles  below  Kingston.  There 
are  several  rapids  between  the  last-mentioned  place  and  Prescott 
about  thirty  miles  above  it,  but  they  are  not  of  a  character  sufficiently 
formidable  to  constitute  any  serious  impediment  to  the  navigation  of 
the  river.  At  Dickenson's  Landing  is  the  first  and  most  stupendous 
of  the  series  of  napids  which  intervene  between  it  and  Montreal. 
This  great  obstruction,  which  is  upwards  of  twelve  miles  in  length, 
is  avoided  by  means  of  the  St.  Lawrence  canal,  extending  along  the 
north  bank  of  the  river,  from  Dickenson's  Landing  to  Cornwall  at 
the  head  of  Lake  St.  Francis.  The  next  interruption  arises  from 
the  rapids  which  occur  between  Lake  St.  Francis  and  Lake  St. 
Louis.  To  avoid  it,  the  Beauharnois  canal  has  been  constructed  on 
the  southern  bank  of  the  river,  forming  a  practicable  link  of  com- 
munication between  the  two  lakes.  At  the  foot  of  Lake  St.  Louis 
the  last  great  obstruction  is  encountered  in  the  shape  of  the  formida- 
ble rapids  of  Lachine,  which  are  avoided  by  means  of  the  Lachine 
canal,  uniting  the  lake  with  the  St.  Lawrence  at  Montreal, 
immediately  below  the  rapids.  Another  impediment,  but  of  a  less 
formidable  character,  is  met  with  somewhat  lower  down  in  Lake  St. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  185 

Peter,  the  volume  of  which  is  very  shallow  and  the  channel  frequently 
shifting.  To  obviate  the  latter  difficulty,  works  have  been  constructed 
in  connexion  with  some  of  the  numerous  islands  at  its  upper  end, 
the  object  of  which  is  to  straighten  the  channel  and  to  render  its 
position  permanent.  At  Three  Rivers,  a  few  miles  below  Lake  St. 
Peter,  but  upwards  of  450  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  tide-water 
is  reached,  beyond  which  the  channel  of  the  St.  Lawrence  is 
practicable  to  the  Gulf.  The  portion  of  the  river  interrupted  by 
rapids,  and  extending  from  Dickenson's  Landing  to  Montreal,  is,  in- 
cluding the  two  lakes  St.  Francis  and  St.  Louis,  a  little  upwards  of 
one  hundred  miles  in  length,  but  exclusive  of  the  lakes  only  about 
thirty,  which  is  also  about  the  aggregate  length  of  the  canals  by 
which  they  are  avoided.  There  is  still  another  route  from  Kingston 
to  Montreal  by  way  of  the  Rideau  canal,  which  extends  from  the 
foot  of  Lake  Ontario  to  By  town  on  the  Ottawa,  this  river  uniting 
with  the  St.  Lawrence  at  the  head  of  Lake  St.  Louis.  But  this  route 
is  both  more  tedious  and  expensive  than  the  descent  by  the  St.  Law- 
rence, and  is  more  adapted  for  military  and  local  purposes  than  for 
constituting  an  eligible  link  in  the  chain  of  communication  between 
the  North-west  and  the  sea-board. 

Such,  then,  being  the  rival  routes  through  New  York  and  Canada, 
let  us  now  consider  the  advantages  which  they  respectively  offer,  in 
the  transport  of  produce  to  the  sea-board,  and  of  imports  to  the 
interior.  The  question  between  them  turns  upon  the  saving  of 
time  and  expense.  The  route  which  can  accomplish  its  object  at 
the  least  sacrifice  of  both,  will  carry  all  before  it;  whereas  if  one 
has  the  advantage  only  in  point  of  time,  and  the  other  only  in  point 
of  expense,  the  issue  may  remain  doubtful  for  some  time  yet  to 
come,  unless  the  advantage  possessed  by  the  one  be  so  great  as  to 
neutralize  that  enjoyed  by  the  other.  There  can  be  no  better  mode 
of  showing  how  the  case  stands  between  them  than  by  following  a 
cargo  of  produce  from  the  interior  to  the  sea-board,  first  by  the  one 
route  and  then  by  the  other,  noting,  in  either  case,  the  time  con- 
sumed and  the  expense  incurred  on  the  way.  Let  us  in  the  first 
place  take  the  route  of  the  Erie  canal. 

We  have  already  seen  that,  as  regards  the  rival  routes,  the  lake 
navigation  terminates  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie.  The  produce  con- 
veyed to  Buffalo  from  either  shore  of  that  lake,  or  from  the  regions 
bordering  the  lakes  above  it,  is  carried  thither  either  in  sloops, 
schooners,  or  steamers.  The  last  mentioned  are  generally  employed 
in  the  transport  of  passengers  and  the  lighter  kinds  of  goods,  the 
great  bulk  of  the  produce  which  descends  the  lakes  being  conveyed 
by  means  of  sailing  vessels.  On  reaching  Buffalo  the  cargo  must 
be  transshipped,  the  navigation  of  the  Erie  canal  being  confined  to 
boats  built  for  the  purpose.  This,  supposing  the  schooner  to  be  of 
300  tons  burthen,  will  occupy  at  least  two  days.  The  cargo,  being 

16* 


186  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

distributed  into  different  boats,  then  proceeds  on  its  tedious  canal 
journey  of  nearly  400  miles  in  length.  Three  miles  per  hour  is  the 
maximum  rate  of  speed  authorized  by  law  for  freight  boats,  a  greater 
speed  being  unattainable  without  injury  to  the  canal  banks.  Making 
proper  allowance  for  stoppages  at  locks,  and  for  other  detentions  by 
the  way,  the  average  speed  along  the  entire  length  of  the  canal  will 
not  exceed  two  miles  per  hour.  Taking  the  canal  as  375  miles 
long,  and  supposing  the  boats  to  continue  moving  at  this  rate  day 
and  night  without  intermission,  they  would  occupy  seven  days  and 
nineteen  hours  in  reaching  Albany,  say  eight  days,  which,  with  the 
two  consumed  at  Buffalo,  make  ten  days  as  the  shortest  time  in 
which  a  cargo  can  reach  the  Hudson  after  arriving  at  the  foot  of 
Lake  Erie.  As  the  canal  boats  do  not  navigate  the  Hudson, 
another  transshipment  takes  place  at  Albany,  into  barges  con- 
structed to  descend  the  river.  This  will  occupy  at  least  another 
day,  whilst  the^greater  part  of  two  days  more  will  elapse  ere  it 
reaches  New  York.  Here,  then,  we  have  thirteen  days  consumed, 
at  the  least,  in  the  transport  of  a  cargo  from  Buffalo  by  the  Erie 
canal  and  the  Hudson  to  New  York.  So  much  for  time — now  for 
expense. 

The  first  item  of  expense  incurred  is  for  transshipment  at  Buffalo. 
This  upon  a  barrel  of  flour  or  a  bushel  of  wheat  may  be  but  trifling, 
but  it  is  of  trifles  that  the  largest  aggregates  are  made  up.  Then 
comes  the  cost  of  transport  along  the  canal,  which  is  materially 
enhanced  by  the  heavy  canal  dues  which  have  to  be  paid.  The 
ordinary  rate  at  which  a  barrel  of  flour  and  a  bushel  of  wheat  can 
be  conveyed  from  Buffalo  to  Albany  is  2s.  Id.  sterling,  and  9dl 
sterling,  respectively.  There  is  then  the  cost  of  transshipment  at 
Albany,  and  the  freight  to  New  York,  which  is  rather  heavy,  inas- 
much as  the  barges  which  descend  the  river  have  to  be  towed  by 
steam.  The  entire  cost  from  Buffalo  to  New  York,  including  all 
charges,  may  be  taken  at  2s.  9d.  sterling  for  a  barrel  of  flour,  and 
,  IQd.  sterling  for  a  bushel  of  wheat.  Such  is  the  sacrifice  both  as 
to  time  and  money,  at  which  a  cargo,  descending  by  this  route  to 
the  sea-board,  is  brought  to  the  point  from  which  it  starts  on  its 
ocean  voyage.  Let  us  see  how  the  case  stands  with  regard  to  the 
St.  Lawrence. 

We  are  once  more  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie,  on  board  a  schooner 
propelled  by  a  screw,  laden  with  produce  from  the  upper  country. 
But  we  now  take  the  route  to  the  left,  instead  of  that  to  the  right 
as  before,  and  at  once  enter  the  Welland  canal. 

This  is  the  proper  place  to  mention  the  essential  difference  which 
exists  between  the  internal  improvements  of  Canada  and  New  York. 
The  Erie  canal  is  unsurpassed  in  length,  but  even  on  its  enlarged 
scale  it  is  small,  both  in  width  and  depth,  as  compared  with  the 
Canadian  canals.  These,  as  already  shown,  are  exceedingly  short, 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  187 

occurring  at  intervals;  and  as  their  design  is  to  render  continuous 
the  navigation  of  a  vast  river,  they  are  on  a  scale,  as  to  their  other 
proportions,  commensurate  with  their  object.  They  are,  in  fact, 
ship  canals.  This  has  an  important  bearing  upon  the  question  at 
issue  between  the  parties.  It  renders  unnecessary,  in  pursuing  the 
Canada  route,  the  delay  and  expense  of  a  double  transshipment, 
such  as  I  have  shown  must  necessarily  take  place  at  Buffalo  and 
Albany.  The  consequence  is,  that  the  vessel  which  descends  to 
the  foot  of  Lake  Erie  with  produce,  can  pursue  her  journey  by  the 
Canada  line,  either  to  Montreal  or  Quebec,  without  once  breaking 
bulk.  Much  of  the  traffic  by  this  line  is  already  carried  on  by 
screw  propellers,  some  of  which  are  upwards  of  300  tons  burthen  ; 
and  there  is  little  doubt  that  ere  long  they  will  entirely  supersede 
sailing  craft,  in  the  direct  transit  trade  by  the  Canadian  waters  be- 
tween the  interior  and  tide-water. 

Having  emerged  into  Lake  Ontario  from  the  Welland  canal,  the 
propeller  proceeds  down  the  Lake  to  Kingston,  whence  she  de- 
scends the  St.  Lawrence  to  Dickenson's  Landing,  at  which  point 
she  takes  the  St.  Lawrence  canal  to  Cornwall,  from  which  she  de- 
scends Lake  St.  Francis  to  the  Beauharnois  canal,  through  which 
she  passes  into  Lake  St.  Louis,  at  the  foot  of  which  she  proceeds 
by  the  Lachine  canal  to  Montreal,  from  which  she  can  descend 
without  impediment  to  Quebec.  The  whole  distance  from  the  foot 
of  Lake  Erie  to  Quebec  is  not  over  650  miles,  which  a  good  pro- 
peller can  accomplish,  if  well  managed,  in  four  days.  It  thus  takes 
but  four  days  to  bring  a  cargo  from  the  foot  of  Lake  Erie,  by  the 
Canada  route,  to  the  point  from  which  it  starts  upon  its  ocean 
voyage.  In  point  of  time,  therefore,  the  Canada  route  has  the  ad- 
vantage by  no  less  than  nine  days  over  its  rival. 

The  cost  at  which  a  cargo  is  forwarded  at  present  by  this  route, 
is  no  criterion  by  which  to  judge  of  what  it  will  be  when  all  the 
capabilities  of  the  line  are  fairly  developed.  It  now  costs  2s.  4d. 
sterling  to  forward  a  barrel  of  flour,  and  9c?.  a  bushel  of  wheat,  from 
Lake  Erie  to  Quebec.  But  at  present,  for  want  of  a  sufficient  num- 
ber of  propellers,  much  of  the  produce  that  descends  Lake  Ontario 
is  conveyed  to  Kingston  by  steamer,  where  it  is  transshipped,  to  be 
forwarded  to  Montreal.  This,  of  course,  increases  the  expense  — 
an  increase  which  will  be  avoided  when  the  propeller  becomes  the 
chief  medium  of  transport  on  the  line.  Besides,  from  its  very 
nature,  the  carrying-trade  by  the  Canada  route  is  at  present,  or  has 
been  until  very  lately,  in  the  hands  of  a  few  wealthy  capitalists.  It 
is  now  being  diffused  over  a  larger  number  of  competitors,  which 
will  occasion  a  still  further  decrease  of  cost.  When  all  the  appli- 
ances of  the  route  are  fairly  brought  to  bear,  it  is  not  too  much  to 
expect,  that  a  barrel  of  flour  can  be  conveyed  from  Lake  Erie  to 
Quebec  for  Is.  6d.  and  a  bushel  of  wheat  for  Id.  In  point  of  cost, 


188  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

therefore,  the  advantage  is,  or  wiJl  be,  with  the  Canada  route  to  the 
extent  of  Is.  3c/.  per  barrel,  and  3(7.  per  bushel.  Thus,  both  as 
regards  time  and  expense,  it  is  superior,  between  the  lakes  and 
tide-water,  to  the  rival  route. 

But  the  object  of  bringing  the  produce  of  the  interior  to  tide- 
water, in  either  case,  is  not  to  leave  it  there,  but  to  forward  it  still 
further  on.  In  carrying  out  the  comparison  between  the  two  lines 
of  transport,  let  us  suppose  that  Liverpool  is  the  destination  of  the 
cargo.  It  is  obvious  that  the  decision  of  the  question  between 
them  depends  upon  the  advantages  offered,  in  either  case,  by  the 
whole  route,  and  not  merely  by  a  portion  of  it.  The  facilities  which 
one  part  of  a  line  may  present,  may  be  more  than  counterbalanced 
by  the  impediments  which  clog  it  in  another,  just  as  the  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  one  part  may  be  completely  neutralized -by  the  facili- 
ties of  another.  The  two  cargoes,  the  course  of  which  we  have 
followed,  are  now,  the  one  at  New  York,  and  the  other  at  Quebec. 
We  have  seen  that,  in  the  race  to  these  two  points,  the  Canadian 
has,  in  every  respect,  outdistanced  his  competitor.  But  the  produce 
on  his  hands  at  Quebec  has  still  to  descend  the  St.  Lawrence,  for 
about  350  miles  to  the  Gulf,  which  again  it  has  to  cross  ere  it  enters 
upon  the  open  sea,  from  between  Newfoundland  and  Cape  Breton. 
The  cargo  shipped  at.  New  York,  on  the  other  hand,  is  launched  at 
once  upon  the  open  sea  on  its  way  to  its  destination.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that,  as^  regards  this,  the  latter  portion  of  the  two  routes, 
the  natural  advantages  are  with  the  New  Yorker.  But  the  ques- 
tion is,  do  these  advantages  so  greatly  preponderate  in  his  favour 
between  port  and  port,  as  to  counterbalance  the  disadvantages 
under  which,  as  compared  with  his  rival,  he  labours  throughout 
the  overland  portion  of  the  route? 

In  considering  this  branch  of  the  subject,  we  find  that  it  is  the 
misfortune  of  the  Canadian  to  have  to  combat,  on  proceeding  from 
port  to  port,  not  only  with  difficulties  of  a  natural  kind,  but  with 
others  of  artificial  Creation.  He  has  not  only  the  lower  portions  of 
his  river  and  the  Gulf  beyond  it  to  traverse  ere  he  gains  the  open  sea, 
but  his  movements  are  clogged  with  imperial  restrictions,  which  fet- 
ter him  in  the  form  of  navigation  laws.  Just  at  the  point  at  which 
his  triumph  over  his  greatest  obstacles  is  complete,  and  when  he  is 
called  upon  to  contend  with  some  remaining  difficulties  of  an  inera- 
dicable character,  he  finds  his  further  progress  impeded,  not  by  natu- 
ral obstructions,  but  by  acts  of  parliament.  It  thus  appears,  that  it 
is  where  the  advantages  of  the  Canada  route  end,  that  those  of  the 
American  begin;  or,  to  view  the  case  from  the  other  side,  that  the 
disadvantages  of  the  Canadian  route  commence  precisely  where  those 
of  the  American  terminate — at  tide-water.  In  the  race  hitherto  we 
have  seen  the  Canadian  by  far  the  more  agile  of  the  two — an  advan- 
tage of  but  little  avail  to  him  so  long  as,  for  the  rest  of  the  course, 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  189 

his  feet  are  heavily  fettered.  Let  us  examine  into  the  difficulties 
which  beset  him  from  tide-water,  with  a  view  to  ascertain  how  far 
they  are  natural  and  insurmountable,  and  how  far  artificial  and  there- 
fore removable. 

Though  starting  from  different  points,  vessels  from  both  ports,  by 
the  time  they  have  accomplished  about  one-third  of  their  respective 
voyages,  fall  into  almost  the  same  line  in  prosecuting  the  remaining 
two-thirds.  The  point  at  which  they  thus  fall  into  a  common  course 
is  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cape  Race,  the  south-eastern  angle  of 
Newfoundland.  At  this  common  point  of  departure,  the  competition 
between  the  two  routes,  in  point  of  advantage,  terminate  the  natural 
difficulties  with  which  the  Canadian  has  to  struggle,  lying  between 
Quebec  and  Cape  Race.  The  great  advantage  which  the  American 
possesses  is  that,  in  making  this  point,  he  can  avail  himself  of  the 
open  sea  the  whole  way  ;  whereas  for  five-sixths  of  the  way  to  it, 
from  Quebec,  the  Canadian  is  confined  to  his  river  and  the  Gulf. 
Although  the  line  is  a  little  circuitous,  the  distance  from  Quebec  to 
Cape  Race  is  considerably  shorter  than  that  from  New  York  to  Cape 
Race.  But  this  advantage  is  neutralized  by  the  delays  which  fre- 
quently occur  in  the  navigation  of  the  river.  Unless  the  wind  is 
favourable,  a  vessel  ascending  or  descending  the  St.  Lawrence  has 
to  drop  anchor  with  every  adverse  turn  of  the  tide.  But,  with  a  fair 
wind,  there  is  no  reason — there  being  good  sea-room  the  whole  way, 
for  the  channel  of  the  St.  Lawrence  from  Quebec  to  the  Gulf  is,  on 
an  average,  from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  wide — why  a  vessel  from 
that  port  should  not  make  Cape  Race  in  five  days.  It  is  only  under 
the  same  propitious  circumstances  that  a  ship  from  New  York  can 
gain  the  same  point ;  the  chief  difference  between  the  two  routes 
consisting  in  this,  that,  circumstances  more  frequently  favouring  it,  a 
ship  proceeding  by  the  latter  does  generally  make  Cape  Race  in  less 
time  than  one  descending  the  St.  Lawrence.  But,  in  point  of  time, 
we  have  already  seen  that  the  Canadian  has  a  gain  at  tide-water  of 
fully  nine  days  over  his  competitor.  If,  therefore,  he  took  fourteen 
days  to  gain  Cape  Race,  whilst  the  American  only  took  five,  it 
would  but  put  the  two  parties  on  an  equality  with  each  other  so  far  as 
time  was  concerned.  But,  in  general,  a  ship  descending  the  St. 
Lawrence  does  not  take  fourteen  days  to  gain  this  point.  It  will  be 
making  ample  allowance  for  the  difficulties  of  the  route,  if  we  assign 
a  vessel  ten  days  as  the  average  time  required  to  reach  it.  This  is 
double  the  time  in  which,  under  favourable  circumstances,  it  can  be 
reached  from  New  York.  This  still  leaves  a  balance  of  four  days  in 
favour  of  the  Canadian  route  from  Lake  Erie  to  Liverpool. 

Another  natural  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  Canadian  is  that,  for 
six  months  in  the  year,  the  St.  Lawrence  is  impracticable  on  account 
of  the  ice  with  which  its  channel  is  blocked  up.  But  the  same  may 
be  said  of  the  Erie  canal,  not  that  its  channel  is  blocked  up  with  ice, 


190  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

but  that  for  nearly  five  months  in  the  year  it  is  without  water.  It  is 
not  prudent  to  remain  so  long  in  the  St.  Lawrence,  but  a  vessel  may 
safely  leave  it  as  late  as  the  7th  or  10th  of  November.  About  the 
beginning  of  May  it  is  once  more  practicable,  and  vessels  from 
Europe  frequently  arrive  at  Quebec  during  the  first  week  of  that 
month.  To  preserve  the  banks  from  the  injury  which  would  be 
effected  by  ice,  the  Erie  canal  is  drained  in  the  month  of  November, 
and  is  not  filled  again  with  water  until  April.  There  is  thus  not 
more  than  a  month's  difference  between  the  time  for  which  the  St. 
Lawrence  and  that  for  which  the  canal  is  impracticable.  In  both 
cases,  the  chief  transport  business  of  the  year  must  be  condensed 
within  the  time  for  which  the  routes  are  capable  of  being  used. 

But  the  chief  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the  Canadian,  after  reaching 
tide-water,  is  that  which  is  of  artificial  creation.  We  have  seen  that, 
as  regards  time  in  transporting  produce  from  Lake  Erie  to  Liverpool, 
if  the  balance  of  advantages  is  not  actually  with  him,  it  need  not  be 
against  him.  The  same  cannot  be  said  with  regard  to  cost,  for  in 
this  respect,  under  existing  circumstances,  the  American  has  on  the 
whole  route  the  decided  advantage.  The  ground  gained  in  point  of 
cheapness,  by  the  Canadian  between  Lake  Erie  and  Quebec,  is  more 
than  lost  by  him  between  Quebec  and  Liverpool.  Various  reasons 
contribute  to  this,  one  of  which  is,  that  the  navigation  of  the  Gulf 
being  at  some  seasons  rather  precarious,  the  rates  of  insurance  on 
sea-going  vessels  and  cargoes  proceeding  by  the  St.  Lawrence  are 
considerably  higher  than  on  those  crossing  the  Atlantic  from  New 
York.  But  the  chief  reason  is  to  be  found  in  the  high  rate  of  freight 
charged  between  Quebec  and  Liverpool  by  those  who  monopolize 
the  navigation  of  the  river.  The  whole  trade  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
is  confined,  by  the  navigation  laws,  to  the  British  ship-owner,  from 
which  accrues  the  double  disadvantage  of  exorbitantly  high  freights, 
and  delay  in  the  transport  of  produce  to  its  destination.  It  frequently 
happens  that  the  quays  bpth  of  Montreal  and  Quebec  are  overladen 
with  produce  waiting  for  exportation,  but  which  remains  sometimes 
for  weeks  on  the  open  wharves  for  want  of  sufficient  tonnage  to  con- 
vey it  to  Europe.  It  not  only  thus  incurs  the  risk  of  damage,  but 
has  to  pay  for  its  transport  almost  any  price  that  the  ship-owner 
chooses  to  impose.  So  great  is  the  disparity  in  this  respect  between 
Montreal  and  New  York,  that  I  have  known  7s.  6d.  sterling  asked 
at  the  former  for  every  barrel  of  flour  to  be  conveyed  to  Liverpool, 
whilst  forty  cents,  or  about  Is.  8d.,  was  the  ruling  price  at  the  latter. 
It  is  of  this  monopoly  and  its  ruinous  consequences  that  the  Cana- 
dian so  loudly  and  so  bitterly  complains.  Such  indeed  is  sometimes 
the  want  of  tonnage  in  the  Canadian  seaports,  that  produce  forwarded 
to  tide-water,  with  a  view  of  being  conveyed  to  Liverpool  that  season, 
is  not  unfrequently  detained  until  th6  opening  of  navigation  in  the 
following  year.  The  inconvenience  of  this  is  great,  especially  as 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  191 

wheat  and  flour  are  perishable  commodities,  and  the  exporter  loses 
all  the  advantages  which  the  English  market  may  in  the  mean  time 
have  offered  him. 

The  remedy  for  this  evil  is  obviously  to  throw  the  navigation  of 
the  St.  Lawrence  open  to  the  shipping  of  the  world.  This  will  at 
once  break  up  the  monopoly  which  is  now  so  serious  a  drawback  to 
the  trade  and  agricultural  prosperity  of  the  province,  at  the  same 
time  that  it  will  give  it  every  chance  of  securing  to  itself  that  great 
and  growing  carrying-trade,  to  secure  which  was  the  chief  object  of 
the  construction  of  those  expensive  works  which  line  the  St.  Law- 
rence from  Kingston  to  Montreal.  It  was  not  for  the  carrying-trade 
of  Canada  alone  that  they  were  constructed.  If  they  fail  to  secure 
their  object,  the  result  will  be  disastrous  to  the  province  in  a  double 
point  of  view  ;  for  it  will  not  only  lose  a  great  and  flourishing  trade, 
which,  if  fairly  dealt  with,  it  has  every  chance  of  securing;  but  it 
will  also  be  burdened  with  costly  and  unproductive  works,  which, 
instead  of  being  a  source  of  revenue,  will  turn  out  to  be  an  annual 
drain  upon  the  coffers  of  the  province.  What  say  the  high  protec- 
tionists to  this  prospect  I  Will  these  self-vaulting  champions  of  colonial 
prosperity  and  greatness  maintain  a  system  so  ruinous  to  our  finest 
dependency  as  this,  and  all  merely  to  support  a  stale  and  tottering 
theory,  and  to  countenance  for  a  little  time  longer  some  antiquated 
notions  as  to  the  only  source  of  England's  maritime  strength?  Even 
were  the  repeal  of  the  navigation  laws,  in  their  connexion  with  the 
St.  Lawrence,  a  question  which  was  likely  to  be  left  entirely  to  our 
decision,  our  true  policy,  both  as  regards  the  mother  country  and  the 
colony,  would  be  to  abrogate  them.  But  the  question  is  not  one  in 
reference  to  which  we  shall  be  left  to  consult  our  own  exclusive  views 
and  wishes.  The  province  is  bent  upon  being  relieved,  and  at  all 
hazards,  from  a  restriction  which  acts  so  injuriously,  not  only  upon 
its  present  fortunes,  but  also  upon  its  future  prospects.  And  some 
of  those  who  in  Canada  are  most  clamorous  for  the  repeal  of  the 
navigation  laws,  are  those  whose  political  sympathies  are  otherwise 
most  in  unison  with  the  views  of  the  protectionists  at  home.  It  is 
not  only  Liberalism,  in  Canada — to  which  the  vilest  purposes  have  so 
frequently  but  so  unjustly  been  imputed, — which  seeks  to  relieve 
the  St.  Lawrence  of  the  restrictions  of  the  navigation  laws  ;  for  it  is 
loudly  joined  in  the  cry  by  the  humble  imitation  of  imperial  Toryism 
which  rears  its  ridiculous  head  in  the  wilds  of  the  province.  And 
when  the  Canadian  asks  to  be  thus  relieved,  what  answer  can  we 
now  make  to  him?  We  formerly  conferred  privileges  upon  him  in 
our  markets,  which  may  have  compensated,  to  some  extent,  for  the 
disadvantages  at  which  in  other  respects,  for  the  sake  of  particular 
interest,  we  placed  him.  But  these  advantages  he  no  longer  enjoys. 
We  have  deprived  him  of  the  price  paid  him  for  bearing  the  burden, 
and  is  it  fair  that  he  should  any  longer  be  called  upon  to  bear  it  ? 


192  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

He  will  not  consent  to  bear  it  much  longer,  even  if  we  refuse  to  re- 
lieve him  of  it.  And  who  can  blame  him  for  the  anxiety  which  he 
manifests  in  reference  to  the  matter,  or  even  the  menaces  which  he 
is  sometimes  heard  to  mutter  in  connexion  with  it?  The  stake  for 
which  he  is  playing  is  one  of  immense  magnitude.  The  trade  of  the 
Lakes,  for  which  he  wishes  to  be  the  great  carrier  to  the  ocean,  has 
already  attained  the. value  of  .£30,000,000  sterling:  what  it  will  be 
in  half  a  century  it  is  impossible  to  foretell.  He  has  laid  himself  out 
at  no  little  cost  for  the  transit  trade,  and  will  lose  his  game  if  the 
St.  Lawrence  below  tide-water  remains  much  longer  clogged  as  it  is 
at  present.  By  losing  it,  the  expensive  works  which  he  has  con- 
structed to  secure  it  will  be  thrown  comparatively  unproductive  upon 
his  hands,  when,  instead  of  relieving  him  in  whole  or  in  part  of  the 
burden  of  taxation,  as  he  had  every  reason  to  believe  they  would  do  in 
course  of  time,  they  will  prove  themselves  the  cause  of  additional 
calls  upon  his  pocket.  Will  he,  or  should  he,  submit  to  this]  Not 
only  justice,  but  sound  policy  also  forbids  that  we  should  call  upon 
him  to  do  so ;  and  it  is  to  be  hoped,  for  the  sake  of  all  parties, — for 
even  the  shipping  interest,  if  they  bestir  themselves  properly,  have 
but  little  to  fear  from  it, — that  the  session  of  1849  will  not  pass  over 
before  the  St.  Lawrence  is  thrown  open  to  the  shipping  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  X. 

FROM    BUFFALO    TO    UTICA,    AND    THENCE    TO    MONTREAL    BY    THE    ST. 

LAWRENCE. 

Rapid  Journey  up  the  Lakes,  and  down  through  Canada  West. — Return  to  Ro- 
chester.— Depart  by  Railway  towards  the  Sea- board — Sunsets  in  Western 
New  York. — An  unexpected  Reproof. — A  novel  view  of  Swearing. — Canan- 
daigua. — Beauty  and  Cleanliness  of  the  Towns  and  Villages  in  Western  New 
York. — Ride  by  the  common  highway  to  Geneva,  on  Lake  Seneca. — Beauty 
of  the  position  of  Geneva — A  sail  on  the  Lake.—  Ride  to  Lake  Cayuga. — 
Stupendous  Bridges  by  which  it  is  spanned. — Arrival  at  Auburn. — The  State 
Prison — Proceed  to  Syracuse,  Rome,  and  Utica. — American  Civic  Nomen- 
clature.— The  City  of  Utica. — James  Fennimore  Cooper. — The  Falls  of 
Trenton. — Journey  from  Trenton  to  the  St.  Lawrence. — Cross  to  Kingston. — 
Voyage  down  the  St.  Lawrence. — Shooting  of  the  Rapids. — Arrival  at  Mon- 
treal. 

FROM  Buffalo  I  proceeded  by  steamer,  which  touched  at  some  of 
the  lake  ports  of  Ohio  on  the  way,  to  the  head  of  Lake  Erie,  and  up 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  193 

the  Detroit  River  to  the  city  of  Detroit  in  the  State  of  Michigan. 
This  river  is  the  connecting  link  between  Lake  St.  Clair  and  Lake 
Erie — the  former  being  a  small  body  of  water  in  that  neighbourhood, 
intervening  between  the  latter  and  the  vast  volume  of  Lake  Huron, 
which  again  is  connected  with  Lake  St.  Clair  by  the  St.  Clair  River, 
both  this  river  and  the  Detroit  being  in  fact  links  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence. The  city  of  Detroit  is  situated  upon  the  west  bank  of  the 
river  of  that  name,  a  little  below  where  it  emerges  from  Lake 
St.  Clair.  The  Detroit,  together  with  the  River  and  Lake  St.  Clair, 
here  form  the  boundary  between  the  State  of  Michigan  and  Canada 
West.  Frem  Detroit  I  proceeded  through  Canada  to  the  town  of 
London,  situated  in  the  midst  of  a  rich  agricultural  district,  the  por- 
tion of  the  province  lying  between  Lakes  Huron,  Erie,  and  Ontario, 
with  an  area  about  as  large  as  that  of  England,  being  as  fertile  and 
in  every  way  as  desirable  a  home  to  the  settler  as  any  State  in  the 
Union.  From  London  I  proceeded  by  an  excellent  road,  which  was 
planked  like  a  floor  for  a  great  part  of  the  way,  to  Hamilton  at  the 
head  of  Lake  Ontario,  whence  a  sail  of  fifty  miles  by  steamer  con- 
veyed me  to  Toronto,  the  capital  of  the  once  separate  province  of 
Upper  Canada.  This  is  a  large  bustling  town,  situated  on  the  side 
of  a  spacious  bay  on  the  northern  shore  of  the  lake,  arrd  having  an 
extensive  commercial  intercourse  not  only  with  the  country  behind 
it,  but  with  all  the  ports  both  upon  the  lake  arid  the  St.  Lawrence 
below.  It  has  increased  in  population  as  rapidly  as  any  of  the  Ame- 
rican towns  to  which  I  have  alluded  as  illustrating  the  speed  with 
which  communities  spring  up  in  the  New  World.  Its  plan  is  regu- 
lar, the  main  streets  running  parallel  with  the  shore,  and  being  inter- 
sected at  right  angles  by  others,  which  run  back  from  the  bay.  It  is 
in  every  respect  a  pretty  town,  aud  its  chief  thoroughfare,  King  street, 
would  be  an  ornament  to  any  city  in  the  United  Kingdom  It  is 
still  a  species  of  capital,  being  the  seat  of  the  Court  of  Chancery 
and  the  courts  of  law  for  Canada  West.  Here  also  is  the  University, 
an  institution  magnificently  endowed,  but  which  has  hitherto  been 
diverted  from  its  original  purpose.  It  was  designed  as  a  provincial 
institution,  but  was  converted  into  a  sectarian  one,  the  Episcopal 
church,  by  a  variety  of  adroit  mariceuvrings,  getting  it  for  a  time 
completely  into  its  hands.  The  liberal  party  in  the  provinces  are 
determined  to  unsectarianize  it;  and  the  liberal  ministry  now  in 
power  at  Montreal  are  devising  a  measure,  to  be  laid  before  parlia- 
ment at  its  approaching  session,  to  place  the  institution  upon  a  secular 
basis,  when  every  branch  of  human  learning  will  be  taught  in  it 
except  theology.  This  measure,  when  introduced,  will  give  rise  to 
considerable  excitement,  for  it  is  intimately  connected  with  the  whole 
question  of  the  position  of  the  Church  in  Canada. 

But  to  enter  into  the  particulars  of  such  questions,  or  to  describe 
minutely  what  I  saw  in  this  part  of  my  excursion,  would  be  alien 

VOL.  II.— 17 


194  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

to  the  purpose  of  the  present  work.  I  shall  therefore  hurry  back 
again  to  the  United  States.  There  is  a  daily  communication 
between  Toronto  and  Rochester,  and  in  fourteen  hours  after  leaving 
the  former  place  1  found  myself  once  more  on  the  romantic  waters 
of  the  Genesee. 

After  another  brief  sojourn  in  Rochester,  I  proceeded  towards 
the  sea-board.  As  already  noliced,  there  is  a  continuous  railway 
from  Buffalo  to  Boston.  From  Rochester  it  leads  to  the  village  of 
Canandaigua,  which  is  thirty  miles  distant.  It  was  towards  sunset 
when  I  left,  and  in  about  an  hour  and  a  half  performed  the  first 
stage  of  my  journey.  It  was  the  month  of  August.  The  weather 
was  beautiful,  and  the  evening  air  balmy  and  delicious.  I  remained 
on  one  of  the  platforms  of  the  railway  carriage  the  whole  way, 
enjoying  the  lovely  prospect,  through  which  I  was  so  rapidly  driven. 
I  never  witnessed  a  more  gorgeous  sunset  than  that  with  which  the 
heavens  soon  glowed  behind  us.  Piles  of  massive  clouds  were 
lounging  as  it  were  on  the  western  horizon,  their  light  fleecy  fringes 
glistening  as  if  they  had  been  dipped  in  silver  and  gold.  Towards 
the  zenith,  the  sky  was  of  a  deep  azure  ;  about  midway  to  the  hori- 
zon it  assumed  a  greenish  hue,  which  became  paler  and  paler  as  it 
merged  into  the  brilliant  yellow  which  lay  beneath  it,  which  again 
gave  place  to  the  broad  belt  of  flaming  vermilion  which  swept  along 
the  horizon,  and  in  which  the  intervening  tree-tops  seemed  to  be 
bathed.  The  dazzling  picture  presented  almost  every  variety  of 
colour  and  shade,  whilst  long  pencils  of  white  light  shot  up  like 
bars  of  sunlight  from  the  horizon  to  the  zenith,  spreading  like  a 
thin  gauze  over  the  brilliant  colours  underneath,  and  subduing  in 
some  places  their  intensity.  This  was  the  reflected  light  of  the 
setting  sun  from  the  vast  body  of  Lake  Erie,  which  lay  directly  to 
the  west,  and  on  which  the  sun  was  still  shining,  although  it  had 
been  for  some  time  below  our  horizon.  These  broad  bars  of  light 
were  constantly  shifting  as  clouds  drifted  in  the  west  over  the  disc 
of  the  invisible  sun,  the  portion  of  the  lake  reflecting  his  lustre  at 
one  moment  being  obscured  in  shade  perhaps  the  next.  It  thus 
appeared  as  if  the  scenes  were  being  constantly  shifted,  which  gave 
to  the  gorgeous  celestial  picture  a  faint  terrestrial  similitude.  There 
are  few  places  in  the  world  where  finer  sunsets  are  seen  than  in 
Western  New  York.  In  addition  to  the  other  causes  existing  to 
conjure  up  the  glorious  effects,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  sun  there 
so  frequently  descends,  are  the  lakes  to  the  west,  lying  like  huge 
mirrors,  reflecting  his  lustre  to  the  zenith  for  some  time  after  he  has 
dipped  below  the  horizon. 

I  was  one  of  a  group  of  four  occupying  a  portion  of  the  plajtform, 
my  companions  being  two  Canadians,  one  quite  young,  and  the 
other  elderly  and  apparently  a  retired  officer  on  half-pay,  arid  a 
Bostonian  about  thirty  years  of  age,  of  a  more  jovial  disposition  than 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  195 

the  great  majority  of  his  countrymen.  In  the  course  of  our  con- 
versation, the  more  elderly  of  the  two  Canadians  occasionally 
seasoned  his  discourse  with  some  of  those  camp  phrases,  which  do 
not  exactly  suit  the  atmosphere  of  the  drawing-room.  On  the  other 
side  of  the  platform  stood  a  young  man,  seemingly  under  four-and- 
twenty,with  a  red  pug-nose,  grey  eye,  and  altogether  a  very  cod-fish 
expression,  arid  whose  head  seemed  immovably  fixed  upon  a  piece 
of  white  cambric,  which  enclosed  a  "  stiffener"  of  no  ordinary 
depth.  He  was  evidently  a  sucking  preacher,  but  to  which  of  the 
ranting  denominations  he  pertained  I  could  not  determine.  He 
did  not  form  one  of  our  group,  but  listened  as  attentively  to  our 
conversation  as  if  he  did.  He  at  length  approached  us ;  and  address- 
ing himself  to  our  elderly  friend,  observed  that  it  was  quite  shock- 
ing to  hear  a  man  of  his  years  swear  so  much.  The  blood  mounted 
to  the  old  man's  cheek  at  this  exhibition  of  impertinence  on  the 
part  of  a  perfect  stranger  and  a  comparative  stripling.  For  a  moment 
1  thought  he  would  have  hurled  him  down  the  steep  embankment 
which  we  were  then  passing;  but  divining  the  avocation  of  his 
reprover  from  his  greasy  white  neckcloth,  the  conventional  got  the 
better  of  the  natural  man,  and  instead  of  striking,  he  apologised  to 
him,  stating  that  he  was  sorry  that  anything  offensive  should  have 
reached  his  ears,  unwittingly  uttered  in  a  conversation  not  addressed 
to  him.  The  divine  was  satisfied,  and  resumed  his  former  place  ; 
but  I  observed  that  the  Bostonian  was  almost  bursting  with  sup- 
pressed rage.  He  did  not  explode  until  we  reached  Canandaigua. 
I  was  seated  in  the  public  room  of  the  hotel,  when  an  altercation 
suddenly  arose  in  the  contiguous  lobby.  I  soon  recognised  the 
voice  of  the  Bostonian,  who  had  just  caught  the  parson,  and  was 
angrily  lecturing  him  upon  his  impertinent  ofTiciousness. 

"  What  business  had  you  to  interfere  V  he  demanded,—  "  his 
conversation  was  not  addressed  to  you." 

"  It  is  my  business  to  reprove  in  season  and  out  of  season,"  replied 
the  half-frightened  preacher. 

"Then  by you  did  it  out  of  season  that  time,  I  can  tell 

you,"  said  the  Bostonian,  getting  more  and  more  irritated.  "  He 
was  old  enough  to  be  your  grandfather,"  he  continued ;  "  besides, 
you  know  very  well  that,  if  he  did  swear  a  little,  he  didn't  mean  it." 

"  That  made  the  matter  all  the  worse,"  said  the  preacher. 

"  All  the  worse !"  repeated  the  Bostonian,  with  a  choleric  laugh  ; 

"when  I  say  'D n  it,'  I  do  mean  it;  ami,  according  to  your 

doctrine,  that  is  not  so  bad  as  to  say  it  without  attaching  any  signifi- 
cance to  it." 

A  loud  laugh  from  the  bystanders,  who  had  by  this  time  gathered 
round,  followed  this  retort,  and  the  discomfited  preacher,  without 
uttering  another  word,  entered  the  public  room.  The  Bostonian 
followed  him  to  give  him  a  parting  admonition,  to  the  effect  that 


196  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

he  should  take  care,  the  next  time  he  reproved,  that  it  was  in  season 
he  did  so;  by. pursuing  which  course  he  would  do  all  the  less  to 
render  himself  and  his  country  ridiculous  in  the  eyes  of  the  stranger. 
Early  next  morning  I  took  a  stroll  through  the  village.  The 
small  towns,  which  so  profusely  dot  the  surface  of  Western  New 
York,  are  in  every  respect  the  most  charming  of  their  kind  in  the 
Union.  The  country,  which  is  of  an  undulatory  character,  abounds 
with  exquisite  sites,  particularly  that  portion  of  it  which  lies  between 
the  Genesee  and  the  upper  waters  of  the  Mohawk.  The  scenery  is 
beautifully  diversified  by  a  series  of  lakes  of  different  sizes,  from 
twelve  to  thirty  and  forty  miles  in  length,  which  follow  each  other 
in  rapid  succession.  The  land  around  them  is  generally  well 
cleared,  and  the  little  town&  which  garnish  their  banks  bespeak  a 
degree  of  general  comfort  which  is  only  to  be  met  with  in  the  New 
World.  As  you  tread  their  broad  and  breezy  streets,  and  every 
now  and  then  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  elegant  white  houses  with 
which  they  are  lined,  through  the  waving  and  rustling  foliage  in 
which  they  are  enveloped,  you  are  apt  to  forget  that  such  a  thing  as 
poverty  exists,  and  to  give  way  for  the  moment  to  the  pleasing  allu- 
sion that  competence  is  the  Jot  of  all.  One  of  the  most  pleasing 
features  about  these  towns  is  their  faultless  cleanliness.  In  this 
respect  the  Americans  are  in  advance  of  every  other  people  with 
whom  it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  mingle.  An  American  house, 
both  outside  and  in,  is,  generally  speaking,  a  pattern  of  cleanliness. 
The  American  likes  to  make  a  good  external  show,  and  bestows 
great  care,  when  circumstances  will  admit  of  it,  upon  the  outside  of 
his  dwelling.  The  neat  little  garden  which  fronts  it  is  not,  as  with 
us,  walled  from  the  sight  of  the  public.  It  is  generally  bounded 
towards  the  street  by  a  low  wall,  which  is  surmounted  by  a  light 
iron  or  wooden  railing,  so  that  the  public  enjoys  the  sight  of  what 
is  within  as  much  as  the  owner  himself.  This  is  what  renders  not 
only  the  rural  towns  of  America,  but  also  the  suburbs  of  its  larger 
cities,  so  elegant  dnd  attractive;  each  resident,  in  consulting  his 
own  taste  in  the  decoration  of  his  dwelling,  also  promoting  the 
enjoyment  of  the  public.  How  different  is  the  case  in  our  suburbs 
and  country  towns!  An  Englishman  likes  to  have  his  enjoyments 
exclusively  to  himself;  and  hence  it  is  that  the  grounds  fronting 
your  »'  Ivy  Cottages,"  "Grove  Villas,"  arid  "  Chestnut  Lodges/'  are 
concealed  from  the  passer-by,  by  lofty,  cold,  and  repulsive  walls. 
There  cannot,  in  this  respect,  be  a  greater  contrast  than  that  pre- 
sented by  the  private  streets  of  an  American  town,  large  or  small, 
and  those  of  our  own  villages  and  the  suburban  districts  which  skirt 
our  great  communities.  Nor  let  it  be  supposed  that  to  this  external 
neatness,  in  the  enjoyment  of  whicji  the  public  thus  participates 
equally- with  the  owner,  is  sacrificed  any  of  the  care  which  should 
be  bestowed  upon  the  management  of  the  residence  within.  An 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  197 

American  is  about  as  domestic  in  his  habits  as  the  Englishman  is. 
His  house  is,  therefore,  the  private  sanctuary  of  himself  and  family, 
and  as  much  attention  is  generally  bestowed  upon  it  with  a  view  to 
rendering  it  comfortable  and  attractive,  as  in  decorating  it  externally 
for  the  common  enjoyment  of  himself  and  his  fellow-citizens.  In 
point  of  domestic  neatness  and  cleanliness,  the  Englishman  certainly 
comes  after  the  American.  Would  that  I  could  find  a  high  place 
in  the  classification  for  the  lower  orders  of  my  Scottish  fellow- 
countrymen  ! 

Canandaigua  is,  in  itself,  perhaps  the  most  attractive  of  all  the 
towns  of  Western  New  York.  There  are  others  with  more  beauti- 
ful sites,  but  none  presenting  so  fine  a  succession  of  almost  palatial 
residences.  It  is  situated  on  the  long  gentle  slope  which  descends 
to  the  northern  extremity  of  Lake  Canandaigua,  the  most  westerly 
and  one  of  the  smallest  of  the  lakes  alluded  to.  The  main  road 
between  Buffalo  and  Albany,  which  passes  through  it,  constitutes 
its  principal  street,  from  every  point  of  which  the  lake  at  the  foot  of 
it  is  visible.  The  street,  which  is  about  a  mile  long,  is  exceedingly 
wide,  and  shaded  on  either  side  by  an  unbroken  succession  of  lofty 
and  magnificent  trees.  The  houses  on  both  sides,  which  are  almost 
all  detached  from  each  other,  are  some  distance  back  from  the  street, 
having  gardens  in  front  occupied  by  grass  and  flower  plots,  wi'th 
clumps  of  rich  green  foliage  overhead.  The  finest  mansion  in  the 
town  is  the  property  of  a  wealthy  Scotchman,  who  has  been  settled 
in  Canandaigua  for  upwards  of  forty  years.  It  is  really  a  superb 
residence,  more  like  a  ducal  palace  than  the  dwelling  of  an  humble 
citizen.  The  business  portion  of  the  town  is  that  nearest  the  lake, 
being  a  continuation  of  the  main  and  indeed  almost  the  only  street 
of  which  it  boasts. 

The  country  being  beautiful  and  the  roads  good,  I  preferred 
taking  the  common  highway  to  Auburn,  forty  miles  distant,  instead 
of  the  railway.  I  therefore  hired  a  gig,  and  drove  that  day  to 
Geneva,  sixteen  miles  from  Canandaigua.  On  leaving  the  latter, 
the  road  led  me  close  to  the  northern  end  of  the  lake,  when  it  sud- 
denly turned  to  the  east,  leading  over  a  succession  of  gentle  undu- 
lations of  the  richest  country.  Before  the  Erie  canal  was  con- 
structed, and,  of  course,  previous  to  the  introduction  of  railways, 
this  was  the  great  line  of  road  between  the  Hudson  and  Lake  Erie. 
Along  it  the  earliest  settlements  were  consequently  made,  so  that 
now  the  aspect  which  the  country  on  either  side  presents  is  more 
like  that  of  an  English  than  an  American  landscape.  The  farm- 
houses and  farming  establishments  along  the  road  are  large,  com- 
fortable, and  commodious;  the  farmers  here  being  of  the  wealthier 
class  of  practical  agriculturists.  Some  of  the  houses  are  built  of 
brick,  others  of  wood  ;  but  whether  of  brick  or  wood,  they  are  all 
painted  equally  white,  which,  in  summer  time,  gives  them  a  refresh- 


198  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

ing  effect,  in  contrast  with  the  clustering  foliage  which  environs 
them.  The  afternoon  was  well  advanced  when  I  approached 
Geneva;  and  never  shall  I  forget  the  beauty  of  the  landscape  which 
suddenly  burst  upon  my  view  on  gaining  the  top  of  the  last  hill  on 
the  road,  about  a  mile  back  from  the  town.  Below  me  lay  Geneva, 
its  white  walls  peering  through  the  rich  leafy  screens  which  shaded 
them.  Immediately  beyond  it  was  the  placid  volume  of  Lake 
Seneca,  from  the  opposite  shore  of  which  the  county  of  Seneca 
receded  in  a  succession  of  lovely  slopes  and  terraces.  Large  tracts 
of  fertile  and  well  cultivated  land  were  also  visible  on  either  hand; 
and  the  whole,  lit  up  as  it  was  by  a  lustrous  and  mellow  autumn  sun, 
had  a  warmth  and  enchantment  about  it  such  as  I  had  but  seldom 
beheld  in  connexion  with  a  landscape. 

Geneva  is  a  much  larger  town  than  Canandaigua ;  and  I  know 
no  town  in  America,  or  elsewhere,  with  so  charming  a  site.  Lake 
Seneca,  like  all  the  other  lakes  in  this  portion  of  the  State  except 
Oneida,  is  long  and  narrow,  and  lies  in  a  northerly  and  southerly 
direction.  On  its  west  bank,  at  its  extreme  northern  end,  stands 
Geneva.  The  business  part  of  the  town  is  almost  on  the  level  of 
the  lake;  the  bank,  which  is  clayey,  high  and  abrupt,  suddenly  drop- 
ping at  the  point  where  it  is  built.  It  is  on  the  high  bank,  before  it 
thus  drops,  that  the  remainder  of  the  town  is  buiit,  most  of  the 
houses  of  which  command  a  view  of  the  lake.  The  most  eligible 
residences  are  those  which  skirt  the  lake,  with  nothing  but  the  width 
of  the  road  between  them  and  the  margin  of  the  bank.  They  have 
an  eastern  aspect,  and  nothing  can  exceed  the  beauty  of  the  view 
commanded  from  their  windows,  as  the  morning  sun  rises  over  the 
landscape  before  them. 

I  was  so  delighted  with  Geneva  that  I  prolonged  my  stay  there 
for  two  days  longer  than  I  had  at  first  intended.  On  the  evening  of 
my  arrival  I  took  a  small  boat  and  went  out  upon  the  lake.  It  is 
about  forty  miles  long,  but  scarcely  a  mile  wide  opposite  Geneva. 
The  air  was  still,  but  the  western  sky  looked  angry  and  lurid.  As 
it  gradually  blackened,  a  fitful  light  every  now  and  then  faintly 
illuminated  the  dark  bosoms  of  the  massive  clouds,  which  had  now 
made  themselves  visible  in  that  direction.  As  they  stole  higher 
and  higher  up  the  clear  blue  heavens,  the  illumination  became  more 
frequent  and  more  brilliant,  and  nothing  was  now  wanting  but  the 
muttering  of  the  thunder  to  complete  the  usual  indications  of  a 
coming  storm.  I  was  then  some  distance  up  the  lake,  and  made  as 
speedily  for  town  as  possible.  When  I  reached  it,  innumerable 
lights  were  gleaming  from  its  windows  upon  the  yet  placid 
lake,  whose  dark,  still  surface  was  occasionally  lit  up  for  miles  by 
the  lightning  which  now  coruscated  vividly  above  it.  The  first 
growl  of  the  distant  thunder  broke  upon  my  ear  as  I  stepped  ashore; 
and,  pleased  with  my  escape,  I  hurried,  without  loss  of  time,  to  the 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  199 

hotel.  In  a  few  minutes  afterwards  the  progressing  storm  burst 
over  the  town,  and  the  dusty  streets  soon  ran  with  torrents  of  water. 
The  effect  upon  the  lake  was  magnificent.  It  was  only  visihle  when 
the  lightning,  which  now  fell  fast  on  all  sides,  accompanied  by  awful 
crashes  of  thunder,  gleamed  upon  its  surface,  and  seemed  to  plunge, 
flash  after  flash,  into  its  now  agitated  bosom.  You  could  not  only 
thus  distinguish  the  dark  leaden  waters,  with  their  foaming  white 
crests,  but  the  shore  on  the  opposite  side  fora  considerable  distance 
inland,  and  on  either  hand.  The  whole  would  be  brilliantly  lighted 
up  for  a  moment  or  two,  after  which  it  would  relapse  into  darkness, 
to  be  rendered  visible  again  by  the  next  succession  of  flashes  which 
fell  from  the  black  and  overcharged  heavens.  In  half  an  hour  it 
was  all  over,  when  the  scene  displayed  itself  in  a  new  aspect,  veiled 
in  the  pale  lustre  of  the  moon. 

A  steamboat  communication  is  daily  maintained  during  summer 
between  Geneva  and  the  southern  end  of  the  lake.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  I  sailed  about  half  way  up,  and  rode  back  to  Geneva  in  the 
afternoon  by  the  bank.  Both  shores,  which  were  at  some  points 
low  and  flat,  arid  at  others  elevated  and  rolling,  were  highly  culti- 
vated, which  is  indeed  the  case  with  the  whole  of  this  section  of 
the  State  almost  from  Lake  Ontario,  south  to  the  Pennsylvania  line. 
I  left  Geneva  after  a  sojourn  of  three  days,  and  with  recollections 
of  it  which  will  never  be  effaced. 

Passing  around  the  head  of  the  lake  I  crossed  the  picturesque 
and  rich  agricultural  county  of  Seneca,  lying  between  Lakes  Seneca 
and  Cayuga,  which  are  about  the  same  size,  and  stretch  in  long 
parallel  lines  in  the  same  direction.  After  a  drive  of  about  three 
hours'  duration  I  found  myself  descending  upon  Lake  Cayuga,  at  a 
point  a  few  miles  from  its  northern  extremity.  I  had  scarcely  begun 
to  puzzle  myself  as  to  how  I  was  to  get  across,  when  the  means  of 
passing  the  lake  was  gradually  presented  to  my  astonished  vision. 
A  bridge  of  nearly  a  mile  in  length  spanned  its  volume  at  this 
point,  the  opposite  end  of  which  first  came  in  view  ;  nor  was  it  until 
I  had  reached  the  lake,  that  the  whole  length  of  this  stupendous 
viaduct  was  visible  to  me.  It  was  constructed  of  wood,  and  laid 
upon  a  series  of  wooden  piers,  which  lifted  their  heads  in  long  suc- 
cession but  a  few  feet  above  the  level  of  the  water.  1t  was  in  every 
way  a  more  singular  construction,  in  my  estimation,  than  the  long 
bridge  over  the  Potomac  at  Washington.  There  was  a  similar 
structure  a  little  to  the  left,  over  which  the  railway  passed ;  and 
before  I  had  half  crossed  that  which  was  in  the  line  of  the  common 
highway,  the  eastern  train  shot  from  an  excavation  in  the  opposite 
bank,  and  went  panting  over  the  railway  bridge  at  unabated  speed. 
Lake  Cayuga  is  the  dividing  line  between  Eastern  and  Western 
New  York,  and  in  little  more  than  an  hour  after  crossing  it,  I  found 
myself  in  the  lovely  town  of  Auburn. 


200  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

I  stayed  here  for  the  night,  and  visited  the  State  prison,  in  other 
words,  one  of  the  State  penitentiaries.  But  so  much  has  already 
been  written  about  the  prisons  and  prison  discipline  of  the  United 
States,  in  which  the  penal  establishment  at  Auburn  has  invariably 
been  described,  that  1  need  not  here  trouble  the  reader  with  an 
account  of  it.  It  is,  of  course,  surrounded  by  high  walls,  and  is 
in  its  exterior  both  neat  and  elegant,  looking  half  like  a  prison  and 
half  like  a  palace. 

Next  morning  I  betook  myself  once  more  to  the  railway  on  my 
way  to  Utica.  Our  first  stage  was  Syracuse,  the  capital  of  the 
county  of  Onondaga,  one  of  the  most  populous  as  well  as  one  of 
the  finest  agricultural  counties  in  the  State.  On  approaching  Syra- 
cuse, which  is  an  open,  airy,  handsome  town,  divided  into  two  sec- 
tions by  the  Erie  canal,  which  runs  through  it,  we  passed  the  great 
salt  works  of  Salina.  The  salt  springs  of  the  district  appear  to  be 
inexhaustible.  They  are  the  property  of  the  State,  which  derives  a 
good  annual  revenue  from  leasing  them.  Enormous  quantities  of 
the  finest  salt  are  yearly  made  here,  both  for  home  consumption  and 
for  exportation.  There  are  some  purposes,  however,  such  as  curing, 
for  which  it  is  not  available,  and  for  which  it  comes  but  partially  in 
competition  with  the  rock  salt  of  Liverpool. 

From  Syracuse  to  Utica  the  distance  is  fifty  miles.  Rome  lies 
in  the  way.  Some  little  time  after  we  had  performed  half  the  jour- 
ney, the  railway  led  for  nearly  five  miles  in  one  continuous  straight 
line,  through  a  dense  forest,  which  kept  in  perpetual  shade  a  large 
tract  of  low  marshy  soil.  At  the  extreme  end  of  the  long  vista 
which  thus  opened  through  the  wood,  I  could  discern  a  white  steeple 
rising  over  a  circumjacent  mass  of  bright  red  brickwork. 

"  What  place  are  we  now  approaching?"  I  demanded  of  a  fellow- 
traveller. 

"  Rome,"  said  he.  "  I  live  to  Rome  myself;  it's  gettin'  to  be 
quite  a  place."  I  thought  it  was  high  time  that  Rome  did  so. 

We  were  now  in*  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk,  which  stretches  east- 
ward to  the  Hudson  ;  and  in  less  than  an  hour  after  leaving  Rome 
I  found  myself  in  Utica,  the  capital  of  Central  New  York. 

The  reader  will  be  astonished  at  finding  so  many  places  in  this 
modern  scene  framed  after  those  with  which  his  schoolboy  reminis- 
cences are  so  intimately  associated.  They  are  jumbled  together  in 
ludicrous  juxtaposition;  sometimes  one  and  the  same  county  in  the 
New  World  containing  two  towns,  living  in  peaceable  intercourse 
with  each  other,  for  which  there  was  scarcely  room  enough  on  two 
continents  in  the  Old.  New  York,  in  particular,  abounds  in  places 
having  classical  appellations;  a  rather  singular  circumstance  when 
we  consider  the  many  beautiful  and  expressive  Indian  words  which 
it  might  have  appropriated  to  the  purposes  of  a  civic  nomenclature. 
Proceeding  eastward  from  the  Falls,  one  of  the  first  places  you  meet 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  201 

with  is  Attica,  from  which  a  smgle  stage  brings  you  to  Batavia.  A 
little  to  the  east  of  Rochester  you  pass  through  Egypt  to  Palmyra, 
whence  you  proceed  to  Vienna,  and  shortly  afterwards  arrive  at 
Geneva.  Ithaca  is  some  distance  off  to  the  right,  whilst  Syracuse, 
Rome  and  Utica  follow  in  succession  to  the  eastward.  It  is  a  pity 
that  the  people  in  the  New  World  should  not  content  themselves 
with  indigenous  names.  They  are  quite  as  pretty,  and  would  in 
many  cases  be  more  convenient  than  those  which  have  been  imported. 
The  inconvenience  arises  not  so  much  from  naming  places  after 
cities  which  have  passed  away,  as  after  those  which  are  still  extant 
and  flourishing.  There  is  a  New  London  on  the  Thames  in  Con- 
necticut, and  there  is  a  London  on  the  Thames  in  Western  Canada. 
There  is  scarcely  a  town  of  any  note-  in  Europe  but  has  scores  of 
namesakes  in  America,  whilst  the  Indian  dialects  are  replete  with 
significant  and  sonorous  terms.  What  a  happy  change  did  "  Little 
York"  make  when  it  called  itself  Toronto ! 

Utica  is  a  fine  town,  with  from  twelve  to  fifteen  thousand  inhabi- 
tants. Its  importance  in  a  commercial  point  of  view  has  greatly 
declined  since  the  construction  of  the  railway  connecting  the  Hudson 
with  the  West.  Previously  it  occupied  the  position  of  a  kind  of 
advanced  post  of  New  York,  from  which  the  interior  was  chiefly 
supplied  during  the  winter.  The  communication,  however,  being 
now  so  rapid  and  direct  with  the  sea-board,  its  business  is  chiefly  of 
a  local  character.  The  Erie  canal  passes  through  the  centre  of  it. 
It  is  crossed  at  right  angles  by  the  broad  and  noble  Genesee  Street, 
the  coup-d'teil  of  which,  as  seen  from  the  canal  bridge,  is  exceed- 
inly  striking. 

When  in  Utica  a  few  years  previously,  I  strolled  into  the  supreme 
court  of  the  state,  which  was  then  in  session.  Neither  the  justices 
on  the  bench  nor  the  members  of  the  bar  wore  any  particular  dress 
to  distinguish  them  from  the  spectators.  When  I  entered,  a  venera- 
ble looking  man,  with  thin  gray  locks,  a  high  forehead,  and  alto- 
gether an  engaging  countenance,  was  addressing  the  court,  arguing  a 
demurrer.  The  case  was  that  of  Cooper  (the  novelist)  v.  Stone  (the 
editor  of  a  New  York  paper),  the  action  having  been  brought  for  a 
libel,  published  by  the  latter,  in  reviewing  the  former's  "  Naval  His- 
tory of  America."  It  appeared  that  the  defendant  had  demurred  to 
the  declaration  filed  in  the  case,  and  the  advocate  was  now  engaged 
in  maintaining  its  sufficiency  in  law.  There  was  a  good  deal  in  his 
appearance  and  manner  which  induced  me  to  think  that  he  was  not 
one  of  the  fraternity  in  the  midst  of  whom  he  was  then  placed,  whilst 
the  frequency  with  which  he  moistened  his  parched  palate  with  the 
orange  which  lay  on  the  table  before  him,  indicated  that  he  was 
"  unaccustomed  to  public  speaking."  The  case  at  the  time  excited 
great  interest,  and  I  remained  for  nearly  an  hour  listening  to  the 
argument.  It  appeared  that  the  defendant,  Stone,  had  himself 


202  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

many  years  ago  published  something  replete,  as  the  advocate  con- 
tended, with  blunders,  which  an  over  zealous  critic  might  have  turned 
to  some  account.  Having  adduced  two  or  three  of  these,  which 
sufficed  for  his  purpose,  he  insisted  that  "those  who  lived  in  glass 
houses  should  not  throw  stones."  It  was  not  until  I  had  left  the 
court  that  I  was  given  to  understand  that  the  advocate  in  .question 
was  the  great  American  novelist  himself.  His  appearance  in  a 
forensic  capacity,  in  thus  pleading  his  own  cause,  did  him  consider- 
able credit. 

The  tourist  should  always  make  a  halt  at  Utica,  that  he  may  visit 
the  Falls  of  Trenton  in  its  neighbourhood.  They  are  fourteen  miles 
to  the  north  of  the  city,  and  are  approached  in  summer  by  a  road 
which  is  tolerably  good.  On  the  morning  after  my  arrival  in  Utica, 
I  hired  a  conveyance  and  proceeded  to  them.  Immediately  on 
leaving  the  city,  which  is  built  upon  its  right  bank,  I  crossed  the 
Mohawk,  here  a  sluggish  stream  of  very  insignificant  dimensions. 
Moore  must  have  seen  it  much  lower  down,  ere  he  could  speak  of 
the  "  mighty  Mohawk."  The  road  then  led,  for  nearly  a  couple  of 
miles,  over  a  tract  of  rich  bottom  land,  as  flat  as  the  fertile  levels  of 
the  Genesee  valley.  It  then  rose,  with  but  little  intermission,  for 
the  next  six  miles,  by  a  succession  of  gentle  slopes,  which  constitute 
the  northern  side  of  the  valley  of  the  Mohawk.  On  reaching  the 
summit,  I  turned  to  look  at  the  prospect  behind  me.  It  was  mag- 
nificent. The  valley  in  its  entire  breadth  from  bank  to  bank  lay 
beneath  me ;  whilst  an  extensive  range  of  it  in  an  easterly  and 
westerly  direction  came  also  within  the  scope  of  my  vision.  As  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach  it  was  cultivated  like  a  garden,  whilst  far 
beneath,  on  its  lowest  level,  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  the 
serpentine  course  of  which  I  could  trace  for  miles,  lay  Utica,  its 
skylights  and  tin  roofs  glistening  like  silver  in  the  mid-day  sun. 
The  opposite  slope  of  the  valley  was  dotted  with  villages,  some  of 
which  were  plainly  visible  to  me,  although  from  twelve  to  twenty 
miles  distant  in  a 'straight  aerial  line. 

To  the  north  the  view  was  also  extensive,  but  of  a  more  sombre 
cast.  The  country  was  less  cleared,  and  plain  alter  plain  seemed  to 
stretch  before  me,  covered  by  the  dark  gloomy  pine.  For  the  rest 
of  the  way  to  Trenton  the  road  descended  by  a  series  of  sloping  ter- 
races, similar  to  those  by  which  it  had  risen  from  the  valley. 

After  taking  some  refreshment  at  the  hotel,  which  is  beautifully 
situated,  spacious,  and  comfortable,  and  which  at  the  time  was  full 
of  visiters,  I  descended  the  precipitous  bank  to  look  at  the  Falls.  I 
dropped  by  a  deep  zigzag  staircase,  of  prodigious  length,  to  the 
margin  of  the  stream,  which  flowed  in  a  volume  as  black  as  ink  over 
its  gray  rocky  bed.  Frowning  precipices  rose  from  some  distance 
on  either  side,  overhung  with  masses  of  rich  dark-green  foliage,  jfy. 
projecting  mass  of  rock,  immediately  on  my  left,  seemed  to  interpose 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  203 

an  effectual  barrier  to  my  progress  up  the  stream.  But,  on  examining 
it  more  carefully,  I  found  it  begirt  by  a  narrow  ledge  overhanging 
the  water,  along  which  a  person  with  a  tolerably  cool  head  could 
manage  to  proceed  by  laying  hold  of  the  chain,  which  either  public 
or  private  beneficence  had  fastened  for  his  use  to  the  precipice  on 
his  left.  On  doubling  this  point,  the  adventurous  tourist  is  recom- 
pensed for  all  the  risks  incurred  by  the  sight  which  he  obtains  of 
the  lower  fall.  It  is  exceedingly  grand,  but  not  on  the  same  scale 
of  magnitude  as  the  Falls  of  the  Genesee.  It  is  the  accompanying 
scenery  more  than  the  cataract  itself  that  excites  your  admiration. 
The  opposite  bank  is  high  and  steep,  but  not  precipitous,  and  is 
buried  in  verdure ;  whilst  that  on  which  you  stand  rises  for  about 
200  feet  like  a  gray  wall  beside  you.  The  fall  occupies  an  angle 
here,  formed  by  the  river  in  its  course.  In  turning  it,  you  take  the 
outer  circle,  climbing  from  ledge  to  ledge,  the  friendly  chain  again 
aiding  you  every  now  and  then  in  your  course,  until  you  find  yourself 
dri  a  line  with  the  upper  level  of  the  fall.  Here  the  cataract  next  in 
order  comes  in  full  view ;  and  a  magnificent  object  it  is,  as  its  bro- 
ken and  irregular  aspect  rivets  your  attention.  It  is  by  far  the  largest 
fall  of  the  whole  series,  being,  in  fact,  more  like  two  falls  close 
together  than  one.  There  are  two  successive  plunges,  the  first  being 
perpendicular,  and  the  second  a  stout  but  fierce  rapid  foaming  between 
them,  divided  into  a  succession  of  short  leaps  by  the  jagged  and  irregu- 
lar ledge  over  which  it  is  taken.  By  the  time  you  attain  the  level  of 
the  top  of  this  fall,  by  climbing  the  still  steep  and  slippery  rock,  you 
reach  the  wooded  part  of  the  bank.  Your  progress  is  now  compara- 
tively easy,  the  path  occasionally  leading  you  beneath  the  refreshing 
shade  of  the  large  and  lofty  trees.  Below,  you  had  the  naked  rock 
rising  in  one  unbroken  volume  precipitously  overhead  ;  but  you  have 
now  on  either  side  what  may  be  regarded  more  as  the  ruin  of  rock, 
the  trees  with  which  both  banks  are  covered  springing,  for  the  most 
part,  from  between  huge  detached  masses,  which  seem  to  have  been 
confusedly  hurled  from  some  neighbouring  height.  The  channel 
of  the  stream  is  broad  and  shallow  up  to  the  next  fall,  which,  in  its 
dimensions  and  appearance,  resembles  a  mill-darn.  Above,  the  river 
contracts  again,  until  in  some  places  it  is  only  a  few  yards  wide, 
where  it  foams  and  roars  as  it  rushes  in  delirious  whirl  over  its  rocky 
bed.  A  little  way  up  is  the  last  cataract,  the  most  interesting  in 
some  respects,  although  the  smallest  of  all.  To  pass  it  you  have  to 
turn  a  projecting  point,  the  narrow  footpath  around  which  brings 
you  almost  in  contact  with  the  rushing  tide,  as  it  bounds  over  the 
ledge.  Here  the  chain  is  almost  indispensable  for  safety.  A  melan- 
choly interest  attaches  to  this  fall,  from  some  sad  and  fatal  accidents 
which  occurred  at  it  before  the  chain  was  placed  where  it  is.  The 
gorge  through  which  the  West  Canada  Creek,  such  being  the  name 
oT  the  stream,  here  forces  its  way,  is  about  two  miles  in  length. 


204  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

Between  the  upper  fall  and  the  small  village  at  the  northern  extre- 
mity of  the  chasm,  the  channel  of  the  river  is  a  succession  of  rapids 
and  dark  eddying  pools  covered  with  patches  of  dirty  white  foam. 
I  managed  with  great  difficulty,  and  with  the  aid  of  a  guide,  to  as- 
cend it,  returning  to  the  hotel  by  the  open  road  leading  along  the 
top  of  the  bank. 

Trenton  is  well  worth  a  visit,  and  the  tourist  may  enjoy  himself 
for  some  days  in  its  neighbourhood.  There  is  much  about  it  to 
remind  one  of  the  wild  and  romantic  scenery  of  Campsie  Glen,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Glasgow.  There  is  the  same  succession  of 
falls  and  rapids,  but  the  stream  is  larger,  and  the  cataracts  on  a 
greater  scale,  at  Trenton  than  at  Campsie. 

Instead  of  returning  to  Utica,  and  descending  the  valley  of  the 
Mohawk  by  railway  kto  Albany,  I  determined  to  strike  across  the 
country  from  Trenton  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  descend  that  river  to 
Montreal,  and  find  my  way  thence,  by  Lake  Champlain,  into  the 
United  States.  After  a  rather  tedious  day's  journey  I  reached  Water-^ 
town,  and  soon  afterwards  found  myself  on  the  American  bank  of 
the  St.  Lawrence,  just  as  it  emerges  from  Lake  Ontario.  I  crossed 
it  at  once  into  Canada,  landing  in  the  town  of  Kingston.  For  the 
reason  stated  in  briefly  adverting  to  Toronto,  I  shall  make  no  par- 
ticular allusion  to  thai  portion  of  the  remainder  of  my  journey  which 
led  me  through  Canada. 

There  were  two  sets  of  steamers  plying  between  Kingston  and 
Montreal  ;  one  descending  all  the  rapids,  and  the  other  stopping 
short  at  those  of  Lachine,  close  to  the  latter  city.  I  selected  one  of 
the  former,  determined,  when  I  was  at  it,  to  shoot  them  all. 

Rounding  the  point  in  front  of  the  town,  on  the  top  of  which 
stands  the  impregnable  little  fortress  of  Fort  Henry,  we  shaped  our 
course  down  the  river,  the  surface  of  which  is  broken  into  several 
narrow  and  winding  channels,  by  the  many  islands  with  which  it 
was  studded.  The  extraordinary  group  called  the  "  Thousand 
Islands"  commences  about  twelve  miles  below  Kingston,  and  extends 
to  Brockville,  about  sixty  miles  further  down.  As  we  approached, 
the  St.  Lawrence  seemed  to  be  absorbed  by  the  land  before  us,  which 
was  covered  with  wood,  and  appeared  to  sweep  in  an  unbroken  line 
across  the  channel  of  the  river.  It  was  not  until  we  were  close  upon 
it  that  the  whole  mass  seemed  suddenly  to  move,  and  the  change 
effected  was  as  complete  as  when  the  scenes  are  shifted  in  a  theatre. 
Some  portions  appeared  to  be  drawn  aside  in  one  direction,  and 
others  in  another,  until  that  which,  a  few  minntes  before,  looked  like 
one  solid  mass  of  earth,  seemed  as  it  were  to  be  suddenly  broken 
into  fragments,  divided  from  each  other  by  innumerable  channels, 
varying  as  much  in  their  dimensions  as  in  the  direction  which  they 
took.  We  made  for  the  widest,  and  plunged  into  the  labyrinth.  We 
sometimes  gave  the  islands  a  good  berth,  but  at  others  had  them  so 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  205 

close  on  either  side  of  us  that  I  could  almost  jump  ashore  from  the 
paddle-boxes.  In  naming  them  the  "Thousand  Islands"  people 
came  far  within  the  mark  as  regards  their  actual  number,  which,  I 
understand,  exceeds  fifteen  hundred.  They  are  of  all  sizes,  from  an 
area  of  600  acres  to  that  of  an  ordinary  dining-table.  They  rise 
but  a  few  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  some  being  covered 
with  large  timber,  and  others  with  stunted  shrubbery,  whilst  some, 
the  smallest  of  the  group,  have  no  covering  whatever,  nothing  but 
the  bare  rock  peering  above  the  river.  For  the  whole  way  through 
them  you  are  subjected  to  a  series  of  surprises.  You  puzzle  your- 
self every  now  and  then  as  to  where  your  next  channel  is  to  be,  when 
perhaps  the  advance  of  a  few  yards  more  solves  the  difficulty,  one, 
two,  or  more,  suddenly  opening  up  on  the  right  or  on  the  left,  as  the 
case  may  be.  This  singular  group  seems  to  be  the  remains  of  a  low 
ridge  of  earth  and  rock  which  lay  in  the  river's  course  just  as  it 
emerged  from  the  lake,  the  accumulated  waters  of  which  at  length 
burst  through  the  impediment  without  carrying  it  bodily  off,  but 
making  for  themselves  sufficient  room  to  escape. 

From  Brockville,  for  some  distance  down,  the  broad  channel  of 
the  river  is  free  from  impediment.  Twelve  miles  below  is  the  town 
of  Prescott,  and  on  the  American  bank  opposite  that  of  Ogdensburg. 
During  the  insurrection  which  broke  out  in  Canada  in  1837,  a 
piratical  expedition  landed  from  the  latter  place  at  Windmill  Point, 
a  few  miles  below  Prescott.  They  were  under  the  command  of  a 
Pole  of  the  name  of  Von  Shultz.  I  am  not  aware  whether  he  was 
ever  a  recipient  of  British  bounty  or  not,  but  perhaps  Lord  Dudley 
Stuart  could  tell.  The  buccaniers  were  defeated,  and  Von  Shultz 
was  hanged. 

On  leaving  Prescott  we  crossed  to  Ogdensburg  for  passengers. 
This  town  is  built. at  the  mouth  of  the  Oswegatchie,  a  rapid  stream, 
with  so  dark  a  current  that,  on  entering  the  St.  Lawrence,  it  seems 
to  run  with  ready-made  porter.  Gliding  down  the  river  we  were 
soon  in  the  midst  of  islands  again,  arid  found  ourselves  ere  long  at 
the  commencement  of  the  rapids. 

The  first  two  or  three  which  we  passed  were  not  sufficiently  for- 
midable to  cause  more  than  a  slight  ripple  on  the  surface ;  but  by- 
and-by  we  approached  the  great  rapid,  that  called  the  Long  Sault, 
and  preparation  was  made  for  its  descent.  Even  those  accustomed 
to  shoot  it  seemed  to  grow  more  and  more  excited  as  we  approached  ; 
it  was  no  wonder,  then,  that  a  novice  like  myself  should  partake 
largely  of  the  feeling.  We  touched  for  a  few  minutes  at  Dicken- 
son's  Landing,  a  little  above  the  rapid,  and  already  alluded  to  as 
being  at  the  upper  extremity  of  the  St.  Lawrence  canal,  constructed  to 
enable  vessels  not  built  for  descending  the  rapid,  to  avoid  it.  On  get- 
ting afloat  again  the  ladies  retired  to  the  cabin,  half-frightened  at  what 
was  before  them,  and  determined  at  least,  not  to  witness  the  danger. 

VOL.  II.— 18 


206  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

I  took  my  post  upon  deck,  where  I  resolved  to  remain  until  the  ex- 
citing episode  was  over.     The  rapid  was  in  sight.     Independently 
of  the    fact   that  I  was  about  to  shoot   it,  it  was  an  object  of  the 
highest  interest  to  me,  for  who  has  not  heard  of  the  rapids  of  the  St. 
Lawrence?     In  my  mind  they  were  associated  with  my  earliest  read- 
ing reminiscences.     We   were  close   to  the  Canada   shore,   some 
wooded  islands  intervening  between   us  and  the  American  bank. 
The  rapid  commenced  amongst  the  islands,  but  did  not  exhibit  itself 
in  its  full  force  and  grandeur  until  it  emerged  from  them  into  the 
clear  and  somewhat  contracted  channel  immediately  below.  Through- 
out its  whole  length  it  is  much  more  formidable  on  the  Canada  than 
on  the  American  side.     It  was  by  the  latter  alone,  previously  to  the 
completion   of  the  canal,  that  the   barges  which  were  used  in  the 
navigation  of  the  river  could  ascend,  on  their  way  from  Montreal  to 
Prescott.     It  sometimes  required  fourteen  yoke  of  oxen  to  tow  an 
empty  barge  slowly  against  the  current,  not  where  it  was  most  im- 
petuous, but  close  to  the  shore,  where  its  force  was  comparatively 
small.    It  was  by  the  Canada  side  that  we  were  to  descend  the  rapid, 
which  leapt,  foamed,  and  tossed  itself  wildly  about,  immediately  in 
front  of  us.     As  far  as  we  could  see  down  the  river,  the  dark  leaden- 
looking  water  was  broken  into  billowy  masses  crested  with  spray, 
like  the  breakers  upon  a  low  rocky  shore,  stretching  far  out  to  sea  ; 
whilst  the  roar  with  which  the  delirious  current  was  accompanied, 
was  like  the  sound  of  a  cataract  hard  by.     For  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  above  the  rapid  the  current  ran  smoothly,  but  with  great  velocity, 
which  increased  as   it  approached  the  line  at  which  the  channel 
dipped  still  more,  agitating  the  mighty  volume,  which  seemed  to  tear 
itself  to  pieces  against  the  sunken  rocks,  over  which  it  dashed  with 
impetuous  speed.     A  period,  as  it  were,  of  breathless  expectation 
ensued,  from  the  time  of  our  entering  upon  the  preliminary  current, 
until  we  crossed  the  line  in  question.     The  steamer  seemed  here  to 
take  its  race  for  the  plunge  which  it  made  from  the  smooth  into  the 
broken  current.      To  one  unaccustomed  to  such  a  scene,  a  moment 
or  two  of  semi-stupefaction  ensues,  after  getting  fairly  within  the 
embraces  of  the  rapid.   It  seemed  to  me  at  first  that  we  had  suddenly 
been    brought   to  a  halt,  and  were  standing  still,  with  the  water 
boiling  and  surging  around  us  in  a  mighty  caldron,  whilst  islands, 
mainlands,  rocks,  trees,  houses,  and  every  fixed  thing  ashore  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  been  loosened  from  theip  foundations,  and  to  be 
reeling  around  me.     On  becoming  more  collected  I  discerned  the 
real  state  of  things  ;  the  steamer  was  shooting  like  an  arrow  along 
the  stormy  descent,  lashing  the  angry  waters  with  her  lusty  paddle- 
wheels  to  give  her  steerage-way.     She  thus  rushed  on  for  miles  in 
the  course  of  a  few  minutes,  the  objects  ashore  flitting  by  us  as  do 
those  which  line  a  railway.  By-and-by  we  reached  a  point  where  the 
current,  although  yet  greatly  agitated,  was  comparatively  tranquil, 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  207 

when  the  very  steamer  seemed  to  breathe  more  freely  after  her 
perilous  race.  On  looking  around  me,  the  islands  were  gone,  the 
broad  and  broken  channel  was  no  longer  to  be  seen,  the  banks  had 
fallen  from  their  well-wooded  elevations  almost  to  the  water's  edge, 
the  stream  was  contracted — it  was  placid  in  front  of  us,  but  wildly 
agitated  behind — in  short,  the  whole  scene  had  changed.  The 
whole  looked  like  a  troubled  dream,  and  it  was  some  time  ere  I 
could  recall,  in  their  proper  succession,  the  different  incidents  which 
marked  it. 

We  soon  afterwards  turned  a  point  which  shut  the  rapid  from  our 
view,  and  in  about  half  an  hour  more  were  at  Cornwall,  the  frontier 
town  of  Canada  West.  Here  we  stayed  for  the  night,  resuming  our 
journey  at  a  very  early  hour  in  the  morning. 

Shortly  after  leaving  Cornwall,  we  emerged  from  a  mazy  but  very 
interesting  channel  upon  the  broad  and  placid  volume  of  Lake  St. 
Francis.  It  is  about  fifty  miles  in  length,  and  is  studded  at  its 
upper  end  with  a  pretty  cluster  of  islands.  Indeed,  its  whole  sur- 
face is  more  or  less  dotted  with  islands,  on  one  of  which  the  high- 
landers  of  Glengary,  a  countynn  Canada  West  bordering  the  lake 
on  the  north,  have  erected  a  rude  conical  monument  of  unhewn 
stone,  in  honour  of  Sir  John  Colborne,  now  Lord  Seaton,  who  took 
such  prompt  and  decisive  measures  for  the  suppression  of  the  insur- 
rection in  1837  imd  1838.  The  boundary  line  between  the  two 
provinces  is  but  a  little  way  below,  and  this  monument  has  been 
rather  ungraciously  raised  in  sight  of  the  habitans.  Passing  the 
boundary,  we  found  ourselves  at  once  amongst  the  French  settle- 
ments; the  long,  low,  wooded  bank,  which  loomed  upon  us  in  hazy 
outline  to  the  south,  being  a  portion  of  the  fertile  seigniory  of  Beau- 
harnois — both  banks  of  the  St.  Lawrence  being  now  within  British 
jurisdiction.  At  the  foot  of  the  lake,  on  its  northern  shore,  stands 
the  little  French  Canadian  town  of  Cottau  da  Lac.  And  here  com- 
mences the  series  of  rapids,  occurring,  with  but  little  intermission, 
between  Lake  St.  Francis  and  Lake  St.  Louis.  The  channel  of  the 
river  was  once  more  impeded  with  islands,  a  screen  of  which 
stretched  across  it  on  its  emerging  from  the  lake,  which  almost  entirely 
concealed  the  rapids  below  1'rom  the  town.  The  first  rapid  which 
occurred  was  that  known  as  the  Coteau;  it  was  short,  but  exceed- 
ingly impetuous,  and  we  seemed  to  clear  it  almost  at  a  bound. 
Between  that  and  the  Cedars,  the  next  rapid,  the  current  was  deep 
and  strong,  but  the  surface  was  unbroken.  We  shot  at  a  very  swift 
pace  by  the  village  of  the  Cedars,  situated  at  the  head  of  the  rapid 
on  a  pretty  bend  of  the  high  bank  on  our  left.  On  turning  a  point 
immediately  below  it  the  rapid  became  visible,  and  in  ten  minutes 
more  we  were  at  the  foot  of  it.  The  channel  is  here  very  wide  again, 
and  the  rapid  pours  between  the  islands  which  stud  it  as  well 
as  between  them  and  the  banks.  Here  the  strongest  point  of 


208  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

the  rapid  is  on  the  southern  side,  where  the  water,  as  it  leapt  from 
rock  to  rock,  rose  high  in  the  air,  crested  with  white  foam  which 
looked  like  snow  wreaths  in  the  distance.  For  a  mile  or  two  the 
channel  was  again  unimpeded  and  smooth,  though  the  current  was 
still  very  strong.  We  then  approached  another  group  of  islands, 
with  seemingly  several  channels  between  them.  Here  I  had  proof, 
in  the  tossing  and  angry  waters  before  me,  that  we  were  about  to 
shoot  another  rapid,  known  as  the  Cascades.  We  were  soon  in  the 
midst  of  it,  when  we  seemed  to  glide  down  a  hill  into  the  tranquil 
volume  of  Lake  St.  Louis.  On  looking  to  the  left,  as  we  pursued 
our  way  down  the  lake,  I  perceived  a  noble  estuary  stretching  for 
miles  in  a  north-westerly  direction,  with  a  line  of  blue  hills  faintly 
traced  along  the  sky  beyond  it.  This  was  the  mouth  of  the  Ottawa, 
which  in  uniting  here  with  the  St.  Lawrence  forms  Lake  St.  Louis. 
I  looked  with  much  interest  upon  the  spot  where  two  such  mighty 
streams  peacefully  mingled  their  confluent  waters;  one  issuing  from 
the  distant  Lake  Superior,  and  the  other  rising  in  the  remote  terri- 
tories of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  The  St.  Lawrence  came 
foaming  and  roaring  down  its  rugged  channel  into  the  lake,  whereas 
the  Ottawa  stole  gently  into  it,  in  a  broad  and  scarcely  perceptible 
current.  Some  distance  above,  however,  its  channel  is  interrupted, 
like  that  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  by  a  succession  of  rapids. 

A  run  of  two  hours  sufficed  to  bring  us  to  the  rower  end  of  Lake 
St.  Louis,  and  here  we  prepared  to  descend  the  rapids  of  Lechine, 
the  last  great  rapid  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  It  is  by  no  means  so  for- 
midable in  point  of  size  as  the  Long  Sault  Rapid,  but  it  is  more 
perilous  to  navigate.  The  larger  steamers  which  descend  the  river 
do  not  attempt  it,  stopping  short  at  the  village  of  Lachine,  whence 
passengers  are  conveyed  for  nine  miles  by  coach  to  Montreal.  To 
almost  every  one  on  board  was  assigned  his  place  ere  we  reached 
the  top  of  the  rapid.  I  was  near  the  pilot,  who  was  an  old  Indian, 
and  I  could  not  but  mark  the  anxiety  with  which  he  watched  the 
progress  of  the  boajt  as  he  managed  the  wheel,  seeming  desirous  of 
getting  her  into  a  particular  line  ere  she  commenced  her  headlong 
race.  As  she  shot  down  she  rocked  heavily  from  side  to  side,  and 
when  about  half-way  to  the  foot  of  the  rapid  her  keel  grated  the 
rock  at  the  bottom.  The  concussion  was  severe,  and  as  she  lurched 
over  a  little  before  getting  again  fairly  afloat,  the  glancing  waters 
leapt  upon  deck,  soaking  many  of  the  passengers  to  the  knees. 
There  were  few  on  board  who  were  not  frightened,  and  some,  the 
ladies  particularly,  screamed  outright.  The  alarm  was  but  momen- 
tary, and  before  we  had  recovered  our  equanimity  we  had  emerged 
from  the  islands  which  the  rapids  here  also  encircle,  and  had  the 
noble  capital  of  Canada  full  in  view  on  our  left,  nestling  beneath  the 
hill  which  gives  it  its  name,  close  to  the  north  bank  of  this  the 
main  branch  of  the  stream. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  209 


CHAPTER  XL 

FROM  MONTREAL  TO  SARATOGA,  ALBANY,  AND  WEST  POINT. MILITARY 

SPIRIT  AND  MILITARY  ESTABLISHMENTS  OF  THE   UNITED  STATES. 

Departure  from  Montreal — The  «  Tail  of  the  Rapid." — Appearance  of  Montreal 
from  the  river. — Laprairie. — Lake  Champlain — Rouse's  Point — Banks  of  the 
Lake — The  Representative  System  in  Vermont. — The  "  Devil's  Elbow." — 
Whitehall — Saratoga — Life  at  the  Springs. — The  Table-d'hcA>te — Troy — 
Albany. — Accident  on  the  Hudson. — Stay  at  Hyde  Park. — Scenery  of  the 
Hudson — The  Highlands.-r-West  Point — The  Military  Academy. — The 
Military  Spirit  in  America — Exaggerated  notions  respecting  it. — Military 
Establishments. — Cost  of  the  Army  and  Navy. — Contrast  presented  by  the 
Military  Expenditure  of  the  United  Kingdom  and  the  United  States. — The 
Defence  of  our  Colonies. — Their  Mismanagement — Our  Military  Force  in 
in  Canada. 

I  STAYED  for  several  days  at  Montreal,  to  which  I  returned  after 
having  descended  the  river  for  nearly  200  miles  more  to  Quebec. 
It  was  a  beautiful  morning,  near  the  close  of  August,  when  I  finally 
bade  adieu  to  the  former  city  on  my  way  back  to  the  United  Stales. 
To  take  the  railway  to  St.  John's,  I  had  to  cross  the  ferry  to  La- 
prairie.  In  crossing,  the  ferry-boat  skirted  what  is  called  the  tail  of 
the  rapid,  and  was  tossed  considerably  about' by  the  yet  uneasy  river. 
I  looked  with  some  interest  at  the  rapid  itself,  raging  above  us,  down 
which  I  had  been  hurried  but  a  few  days  before,  and  in  shooting 
which  I  must  confess  that  I  was  somewhat  disconcerted,  although 
not  without  cause. 

As  viewed  from  the  river,  the  position  of  Montreal  is  exceedingly 
commanding.  It  is  a  large  town,  with  a  population  of  about  00,000, 
being  chiefly  built  of  stone,  and  lying  close  to  the  margin  of  the 
river.  A  line  of  solid  stone  quays  fronts  the  city,  which  rises  in  a 
dense  mass  behind  them,  the  background  of  the  picture  being  filled 
up  by  the  hill  behind,  which  is  skirted  with  orchards  and  dotted  with 
villas.  One  of  the  most  prominent  objects  in  the  outline  of  the 
town,  as  seen  from  the  river,  is  the  Catholic  Cathedral — with  the 
exception  of  that  in  Mexico,  the  finest  ecclesiastical  edifice  on  the 
continent.  There  is  a  new  and  an  old  town,  much  of  the  former 
reminding  one  of  some  portions  of  Havre  or  Boulogne.  The  new 
town  is  more  symmetrically  laid  out,  the  streets  being  broad,  and 
the  architecture  of  a  superior  description. 

I  took  the  railway  at  Laprairie,  and  after  a  short  ride  over  a  toler- 
ably well  cultivated  country,  I  found  myself  at  St,  John's,  not  far 

18* 


210  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

from  the  northern  extremity  of  Lake  Champlain.  I  was  desirous  of 
visiting  this  lake,  on  account  of  the  important  part  which  it  played, 
not  only  in  our  two  wars  with  America,  but  in  the  conflicts  which 
so  frequently  took  place  between  the  French  and  English  colonies, 
whilst  England  still  ruled  from  the  Kenebec  to  the  Savannah,  and 
whilst  Quebec  and  Montreal  were  French  towns,  and  "  New  France" 
comprised  within  its  vast  limits  fully  two-thirds  of  a  continent,  on 
which  France  has  no  longer  a  footing. 

I  went  on  board  the  American  steamer,  which  was  waiting  for  us 
at  St.  John's,  and  in  a  few  minutes  afterwards  we  were  under  weigh. 
The  steamer  was,  in  her  appearance  and  all  her  appointments,  one 
of  the  most  magnificent  of  the  kind  I  had  seen  in  America.  She 
was  a  floating  palace. 

Shortly  after  getting  upon  the  lake,  which  was  very  narrow  at  the 
top,  as  it  is  indeed  throughout  its  entire  length,  which  is  about  150 
miles,  we  crossed  the  45th  paraHel  of  latitude,  here  forming  the 
boundary  line  between  Canada  and  the  United  States.  Rouse's 
Point,  which  lias  figured  somewhat  of  late  in  the  diplomacy  of  the 
two  countries,  was  pointed  out  to  me  as  we  approached  the  boundary. 
I  must  confess  that  it  appeared  to  me  that  nothing  but  an  overpower- 
ing necessity  could  justify  the  cession  of  so  important  a  military 
position.  The  navigable  channel  of  the  lake  is  here  not  many  yards 
wide,  and  is  so  situated  as  regards  the  point  which  projects  for  some 
distance  into  it,  that  a  vessel  approaching  it  would  be  fora  consider- 
able time  exposed  to  a  raking  fire  from  stem  to  stern,  before  she 
could  come  abreast  of  it  and  make  use  of  her  broadside.  The  same 
would  be  the  case  were  she  to  approach  it  from  the  other  side  ;  so 
that  a  ship  proceeding  from  Canada  to  the  United' States,  and  vice 
versa,  would  not  only  be  thus  exposed  on  approaching,  but  also  on 
receding  from  the  fort.  For  some  time  after  the  boundary  line  was 
originally  agreed  upon,  it  was  supposed  that  the  point  fell  within  the 
American  side  of  it;  arid,  acting  on  this  supposition,  the  American 
government  proceeded  to  fortify  it.  It  was  found,  however,  on  ac- 
curate observations  being  taken,  that  it  fell  upon  the  Canada  side  of 
the  line,  and  the  works  in  progress  were  of  course  immediately  dis- 
continued. It  remained  without  anything  further  being  done  to  it  in 
the  hands  of  the  British  government,  until  by  the  treaty  of  Wash- 
ington, negotiated  on  our  behalf  by  Lord  Ashburton,  it  was  ceded 
in  perpetuity  to  the  United  States.  And  what  was  the  equivalent? 
The  smaller  rnoiety  of  the  debateable  land  in  Maine,  ail  of  which 
we  claimed  to  be  our  own.  Better  have  ended  the  controversy  by 
giving  up  the  whole  of  the  disputed  territory,  and  retaining  Rouse's 
Point,  which  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,'  and  respecting  which  there 
was  no  controversy.  We  should  have  been  quite  as  well  off,  even 
on  the  route  between  Halifax  and  Quebec,  had  we  ceded  to  the 
Americans  the  line  for  which  they  contended,  as  we  are  by  the  re- 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  211 

tentiori  of  only  that  portion  of  the  disputed  ground  which  has  been 
left  us.  The  territory  in  dispute  was  valuable  to  us  only  inasmuch  as 
its  possession  would  have  enabled  us  to  construct  a  pretty  direct 
military  road,  railway,  or  common  road,  betweenrMontreal,  or  Que- 
bec, and  Halifax.  It  was  valuable  to  the  Americans  only  inasmuch 
as  their  possession  of  it  would  prevent  us  from  constructing  such  a 
road.  The  portion  of  it  which  has  been  ceded  to  us  does  not  streng- 
then us,  whilst  their  parting  with  it  does  not  weaken  them.  The 
road,  to  be  of  any  value  as  a  military  road,  must  not  only  lie  entirely 
within  our  own  territory,  but  should  be  so  situated  as  to  be  com- 
manded by  us  at  all  points.  But,  should  it  ever  be  now  built,  it  will 
be  commanded  for  nearly  half  its  length  by  the  Americans.  A  road 
lending  through  that  portion  of  the  country  must  be  virtually,  in  time 
of  war,  in  possession  of  the  party  who  can  keep  the  largest  force 
most  easily  near  it  in  the  field.  Projecting,  as  the  northern  part  of 
Maine  now  does,  like  a  wedge  between  the  two  extremities  of  this 
intended  road,  to  keep  it  within  our  own  territory  it  would  be  neces- 
sary to  carry  it,  by  a  very  circuitous  route,  up  almost  to  the  St.  Law- 
rence, so  as  to  turn  the  portion  of  the  State  mentioned,  which  ap- 
proaches so  near  the  banks  of  that  river.  A  British  force  stationed 
along  the  line  of  the  road  would  be  at  every  disadvantage  for  want 
of  a  good  basis  of  operations;  whereas  an  American  force  would 
have  the  sources  of  its  supply  immediately  behind  it,  and  a  secure 
means  of  retreat,  should  retreat  become  necessary.  In  addition  to 
this,  as  regards  the  road,  the  latter  would  have  the  advantage  of  act- 
ing, as  it  were,  from  the  centre  of  the  circle,  an  arc  of  which  the 
road  would  describe  around  it.  The  Americans  could  thus  command 
it  at  any  point  for  hundreds  of  miles,  and  possession  of  it  at  one 
point  would  be  tantamount  to  a  possession  of  the  whole  line.  Yet  it 
is  for  this  that  we  have  given  up  the  key  of  Canada  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Montreal — a  point  commanding  the  'most  direct  and 
practicable  highway  between  Montreal  and  Albany,  between  the 
St.  Lawrence  and  the  Hudson.  It  may  be  urged  that  it  matters  but 
little,  as  we  are  not  likely  to  go  to  war  again  with  the  United  States. 
I  trust  we  are  not,  but  stranger  events  have  happened  within  the  year 
than  the  breaking  out  of  such  a  war.  Besides,  how  much  longer  we 
are  to  retain  Canada  as  a  dependency  is  a  question.  Should  she 
merge  into  the  Union,  the  value  of  Rouse's  Point  as  a  military 
position  will  materially  decline ;  but  should  she  take  an  independent 
position  on  the  continent,  as  this  country  would  naturally  wish  her 
to  do  in  case  of  separation,  she  would  feel  herself  much  disabled,  in 
a  military  point  of  view,  by  the  loss  of  the  point  in  question.  In  time 
of  war  it  would  throw  open  10  the  enemy  the  highway  to  her  capital. 
It  was  our  duty,  in  consulting  our  own  convenience,  to  have  some 
regard  for  the  interests  of  our  dependency;  and  the  time  may  yet 


212  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

come  when  Canada  will  have  reason  bitterly  to  regret  the  ill-starred 
liberality  of  the  mother  country. 

Having  passed  Rouse's  Point,  we  made  down  the  lake  at  a  very 
rapid  rate.  The  sail  was  exceedingly  interesting,  the  lake  being  nar- 
row, and  the  banks  varying  a  good  deal  in  their  outline,  being  in 
some  places  deeply  wooded,  and  in  others  highly  cultivated.  With 
the  exception  of  the  small  portion  at  its  northern  end,  lying  within 
the  Canada  line,  Lake  Champlain  is  entirely  within  the  American 
territory,  forming,  for  about  150  miles,  the  boundary  between  New 
York  and  Vermont — the  former  constituting  its  west,  and  the  latter 
its  east  bank.  The  New  York  shore  is  generally  much  lower  than 
that  of  Vermont,  which,  as  you  approach  the  middle  of  the  lake, 
swells  into  bold  and  sweeping  undulations  from  its  very  margin.  Bur- 
lington, the  chief  town  of  Vermont,  occupies  a  fine  sloping  site  on 
the  east  bank,  about  halfway  down  the  lake.  From  this  point,  some 
idea  may  be  formed  of  the  nature  of  the  "  Green  Mountains"  which 
traverse  this  State,  and  from  which  it  takes  its  name.  They  are 
generally  covered  with  masses  of  pine  forest,  which  impart  to  them 
that  dark-green  sombre  hue,  which,  in  this  respect  at  least,  would 
render  them  fit  associates  for  the  uplands  of  Monte-negro. 

Vermont,  though  a  strong  Whig  State  in  its  politics,  is  one  of  the 
most  Democratic  of  all  the  States  in  its  polity.  It  tried  for  a  time 
the  experiment  of  a  single  chamber  ;  and  there  cannot  be  a  better 
argument  in  favour  of  a  double  one  than  the  fact,  that  this  quiet,  or- 
derly, thrifty,  decorous,  and  sober  State  soon  found  it  advisable  to 
resort  to  it.  Whether  it  is  the  case  now  or  not,  I  am  not  able  to  say  ; 
but  the  time  was  when  each  township  in  the  State  was  represented 
in  the  Lower  House.  It  so  happened,  that  in  one  township  there 
were  then  but  three  inhabitants,  a  father,  his  son,  and  a  farm  servant. 
To  avoid  the  excitements  consequent  upon  an  election,  they  soon 
came  to  an  arrangement  to  go  time  about  to  the  legislature  :  the  father 
first,  to  maintain  the  interests  of  property  in  possession  ;  the  son  next, 
to  see  that  expectancies  were  duly  cared  for;  and  then  the  servant, 
to  vidicate  the  rights  of  labour.  How  long  the  arrangement  lasted  I 
was  not  informed. 

After  leaving  Burlington,  night  rapidly  closed  around  us.  Early 
next  morning  we  came  to  a  halt,  and  shortly  afterwards  a  great  hub- 
bub arose  upon  deck,  as  if  we  were  about  suddenly  to  be  run  down 
by  something.  I  dressed  hastily,  resolved  to  die  standing,  if  at  all 
necessary  ;  but  upon  getting  above  I  found  that  all  the  uproar  had 
been  caused  by  the  operation  of  turning  a  point  near  the  southern 
end  of  the  lake,  called  the  "  Devil's  Elbow."  We  here  entered  by  a 
very  narrow  strait  a  small  branch  of  the  lake,  at  the  top  of  which 
was  Whitehall,  our  destination;  and  as  the  boat  was  very  long,  and 
the  turn  very  sharp,  it  was  necessary  to  pull  her  round  by  means  of 
ropes.  I  asked  a  fellow-passenger  why  the  point  which  we  were 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  213 

thus  awkwardly  doubling  was  called  the  Devil's  Elbow  more  than 
anybody  else's;  but  he  remarked  that  he  could  not  tell,  unless  it  were 
that  it  took  "  such  a  devil  of  a  work  to  get  round  it."  Whitehall  is 
most  romantically  situated  within  a  few  rifle  shots  of  this  piece  of 
Satanic  anatomy.  On  landing  we  proceeded  to  the  hotel  by  omni- 
bus, our  driver  being  a  young  man,  dressed  in  superfine  black,  and 
wearing  a  swallow-tailed  coat.  So  far  as  dress  went  he  might  have 
stepped  from  his  box  into  the  ball-room. 

From  Whitehall  I  proceeded  by  stage  to  Saratoga,  on  my  way  to 
Albany,  the  distance  being  about  seventy  miles.  W7ith  the  exception 
of  the  land  here  intervening  between  Lake  Champlain  and  tide-water 
on  the  Hudson,  the  narrow  strip  between  the  lake  and  the  St.  Law- 
rence is  the  only  impediment  which  exists  to  a  complete  water  com- 
munication between  New  York  and  Montreal.  It  is  this  that  renders 
Rouse's  Point  so  valuable  a  point  of  offence  arid  defence.  Between 
Whitehall  and  Saratoga  the  country  was  rolling  and  elevated,  and 
very  generally  cultivated.  In  some  parts  a  deep  heavy  clay  was  on 
the  surface,  in  others  the  soil  was  licrht  and  rather  sandy.  We  pro- 
ceeded by  Glenn's  Falls  on  the  Hudson,  crossing  the  river  just  below 
them.  The  town  to  which  they  have  given  their  name  is  neat  and 
pretty,  and  the  whole  neighbourhood  is  charming,  but  the  Falls 
themselves  are  nothing  as  compared  to  those  of  Trenton,  or  of  Pot- 
tage on  the  Genesee.  It  was  evening  when  we  arrived  at  Saratoga; 
and  glad  was  I  to  alight  at  the  hotel,  after  a  hot  dusty  ride  inside  a 
closely-packed  coach. 

Saratoga  has  lately  been  losing  cast,  but  it  is  still  to  a  considerable 
extent,  a  place  of  fashionable  resort.  For  a  tin>e  the  "  select"  had 
it  all  to  themselves,  but  by-and-by  "  everybody"  began  to  resort  to  it, 
and  on  "  everybody"  making  his  appearance  the  "  select"  began  to 
drop  ofT,  and  what  was  once  very  genteel  is  now  running  the  risk  of 
becoming  exceedingly  vulgar.  The  waters  are  held  in  considerable 
repute  as  medicinal ;  but  of  the  vast  crowds  who  flock  annually  to  Sara- 
toga, but  a  small  proportion  are  invalids.  The  town  is  very  elegant,  the 
main  street  being  enormously  wide,  and  shaded  by  trees.  The  hotels 
are  on  a  very  great  scale,  and  so  are  their  charges.  At  this,  however, 
one  cannot  repine,  seeing  that  it  is  everybody's  business  to  make  hay 
when  the  sun  shines.  It  scarcely  shines  for  three  months  for  the 
hotel-keepers  of  Saratoga,  the  crowds  of  flying  visitors  going  as 
rapidly  as  they  come  with  the  season.  For  nine  months  of  the  year 
Saratoga  is  dull  to  a  degree — duller,  if  possible,  even  than  Wash- 
ington during  the  recess  of  Congress.  Suddenly  the  doors  are 
opened — the  shutters  are  flung  back  from  the  windows — curling 
wreaths  of  smoke  rise  from  the  long  smokeless  chimneys — and  the 
hotels  seem  suddenly  to  break  the  spell  that  bound  them  to  a  pro- 
tracted torpidity.  A  day  or  two  afterwards,  a  few  visitors  arrive,  like 
the  first  summer  birds.  But  long  ere  this,  from  the  most  distant 


214  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

parts  of  the  Union  people  have  been  in  motion  for  "  the  Springs, 
and  scarcely  a  week  elapses  ere  the  long-deserted  town  is  full  of 
bustle  and  animation,  and  ringing  with  gaiety.  A  better  spot  can 
scarcely  be  selected  for  witnessing  the  different  races  and  castes 
which  constitute  the  heterogeneous  population  of  the  Union,  and  the 
different  styles  of  beauty  which  its  different  latitudes  produce.  I 
stayed  several  days  and  enjoyed  myself  exceedingly,  and  seldom  have 
I  seen  together  so  many  beautiful  faces  and  light  graceful  forms  as 
I  have  witnessed  on  an  August  afternoon  upon  the  broad  and  lengthy 
colonnade  of  the  principal  hotel. 

I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  at  Saratoga  with  a  Canadian  friend, 
who  had  been  my  fellow  voyager  across  the  Atlantic.  The  gaiety  of 
the  place  is  infectious,  arid  we  soon  entered  into  it  with  the  same  eager- 
ness as  those  around  us.  Saratoga  society  is  not  encumbered  with 
conventionalities.  To  society  around  it  in  its  general  acceptation, 
it  is  what  the  undress  boxes  are  to  the  more  formal  circle  beneath. 
You  make  acquaintances  there  whom  you  do  not  necessarily  know, 
or  who  do  not  know  you  elsewhere.  The  huge  pile  constituting  the 
hotel  covered  three  sides  of  a  large  quadrangle,  the  fourth  side  being 
formed  by  a  high  wall.  The  whole  enclosed  a  fine  green,  on  a  por- 
tion of  which  bowls  could  very  well  be  played.  The  three  sides 
occupied  by  the  building  were  shaded  by  a  colonnade,  to  protect  the 
guests  from  the  hot  sun.  This  part  of  the  establishment  was  gener- 
ally appropriated  by  them,  where  they  lounged  on  benches  and  rock- 
ing chairs,  and  smoked  and  drank  both  before  and  after  dinner.  The 
meal  just  mentioned  was  the  "grand  climacteric"  in  the  events  of 
each  day.  A  few  families  who  visit  Saratoga  dine  in  their  private 
apartments,  but  the  vast  majority  dine  in  public;  and  they,  get  but  a 
partial  view  of  Saratoga  life,  who  do  not  scramble  for  a  seat  at  the 
table  d'hote. 

In  the  chief  hotel  the  dining-room  is  of  prodigious  dimensions. 
It  is,  in  fact,  two  enormous  rooms  thrown  into  one,  in  the  form  of  an 
L.  Three  rows  of  tables  take  the  sweep  of  it  from  end  to  end.  It 
can  thus  accommodate  at  least  600  guests.  The  windows  of  both 
sections  of  the  dining-room  looked  into  the  quadrangle,  and  my 
friend  and  I  observed  that  several  of  the  loungers  in  the  colonnade 
every  now  and  then  cast  anxious  glances  within  as  the  tables  were 
being  laid  for  dinner.  It  soon  occurred  to  us  that  there  might  be 
some  difficulty  in  getting  seats,  a  point  on  which  we  sought  to  set 
our  minds  at  rest,  so  that  we  might  be  prepared,  if  necessary,  for  the 
crush.  But  we  could  effect  no  entrance  into  the  dining-room  to 
make  inquiry,  every  approach  to  it  being  locked.  At  last,  however, 
we  caught  in  the  colonnade  a  tall  black  waiter,  dressed  from  top  to 
toe  in  snow-white  livery. 

"  Will  there  be  any  crush,  when  the  bell  rings?"  I  demanded  of 
him. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  215 

"  Bit  of  a  squeeze,  that's  all,"  he  replied.  "  But  you  needn't 
mind,"  he  continued,  regarding  me,  "  the  fat  uns  get  the  worst  on't." 

"  Then  you  can't  tell  us  where  we  are  to  sit?"  said  I. 

"  Jist  where  you  happen  to  turn  up,  gemmen,"  he  responded, 
grinning  and  showing  his  ivory. 

"  But  surely,"  interposed  my  friend,  "  you  can  secure  a  couple  of 
chairs  for  us?" 

"It's  jist  within  the  power  of  possibles,  gemmen,"  said  he,  grin- 
ning again,  but  with  more  significance  than  before.  My  friend  slipped 
a  quarter  of  a  dollar  into  his  hand.  Oh  !  the  power  of  money.  That 
which  was  barely  possible  before,  became  not  only  practicable  but 
certain  in  a  twinkling.  He  immediately  left  us  to  fulfil  our  wishes, 
telling  us  to  look  in  at  the  window  and  see  where  he  secured  chairs 
for  us.  The  doors  were  still  locked,  but  by-and-by  we  perceived 
parties  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  entering  the  dining-room  by  those 
connecting  it  with  the  private  apartments,  and  taking  their  seats  at 
table.  The  ignobile  vulgus,  in  the  interior  colonnade,  were  kept  out 
until  the  ladies  and  those  accompanying  them  were  all  seated.  Then 
came  the  noisy  jingle  of  the  long  wished-for  bell.  Back  flew  every 
door,  and  in  rushed,  helter  skelter,  the  eager  crowd.  We  took  our 
post  at  the  door  nearest  the  chairs  set  apart  for  us,  on  which  we 
pounced  as  soon  as  we  were  pushed  in,  and  were  thus  secure  in  the 
possession  of  places  from  which  we  could  command  a  look  of  both 
arms  of  the  dining-room.  It  was  some  time  ere  all  were  seated ;  and 
in  the  hurry  scurry  of  entering  it  actually  seemed  as  if  some  were 
leaping  in  at  the  windows.  It  was  not  because  they  were  famished 
that  they  thus  pressed  upon  each  other,  but  because  each  of  them 
wished  to  secure  the  best  available  seat.  It  was  amusing  to  witness, 
as  they  got  in,  the  anxious  glances  which  they  cast  round  the  room, 
and  then  darted  off  in  dozens  for  the  nearest  vacant  chairs.  At  length 
all  were  seated,  and  the  confusion  subsided,  but  only  to  give  rise  to 
a  new  hubbub.  No  sooner  was  the  signal  made  for  a  general  assault 
upon  the  edibles,  which  were  plentifully  served,  than  such  a  clatter 
of  dishes  and  a  noise  of  knives  and  forks  arose,  mingled  with  a 
chorus  of  human  voices,  some  commanding,  others  supplicating  the 
waiters,  as  I  had  never  heard  before.  In  one  room  were  nearly  600 
people  eating  at  once,  and  most  of  them  talking  at  the  same  time. 
The  numerous  waiters  were  flitting  to  and  fro  like  rockets,  sometimes 
tumbling  over  each  other,  and  frequently  coming  in  very  awkward 
collision.  Every  now  and  then  a  discord  would  be  thrown  into  the 
harmony  by  way  of  a  smash  of  crockery  or  crystal.  The  din  and 
confusion  were  so  terrific  as  utterly  to  indispose  me  to  dine,  I  could 
thus  devote  the  greater  portion  of  my  time  to  looking  around  me. 
The  scene  was  truly  a  curious  one.  There  were  many  ladies  present, 
but  the  great  bulk  of  the  company  consisted  of  the  other  sex.  The 
ladies  were  in  full  dress,  the  table  d'hote  at  Saratoga  being  on  a 


216  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

totally  different  footing  from  that  at  other  hotels.  In  about  twenty 
minutes  the  hall  looked  somewhat  like  the  deck  of  a  ship  after  action. 
The  survivors  of  the  dinner  still  remained  at  table,  either  sipping 
wine  or  talking  together,  but  the  rest  had  disappeared  as  if  they  had 
been  carried  out  wounded  or  dead.  Their  fate  was  soon  revealed  to 
us;  for,  on  emerging  shortly  afterwards  into  the  interior  colonnade, 
we  found  them  almost  to  a  man  seated  in  arm-chairs  or  rocking- 
chairs,  some  chewing,  but  the  great  bulk  smoking.  Before  dinner 
they  risked  their  necks  to  secure  seats  at  table  ;  after  it  their  anxiety 
was  to  secure  them  on  the  colonnade.  Hence  their  sudden  disap- 
pearance from  table. 

When  the  day  is  not  too  hot,  parties  drive  and  walk  to  the  springs, 
or  to  some  of  the  most  attractive  points  in  the  neighbourhood.  The 
evenings  are  generally  devoted  to  amusement,  those  of  a  public 
nature  alternating  between  balls  and  concerts. 

After  spending  several  very  pleasant  .days  at  Saratoga,  I  parted 
with  my  friend  and  proceeded  by  railway  to  Troy,  a  charming  town 
with  about  20,000  inhabitants,  situated  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Hud- 
son, at  the  head  of  its  navigable  channel.  From  Troy  I  dropped 
down  the  river  next  day  for  seven  miles  by  steamer  to  Albany.  A 
pretty  thick  fog  mantled  the  river,  which  the  morning  sun  soon  dissi- 
pated, and  displayed  to  us  the  capital  of  New  York,  with  its  noble 
terraces  and  gilded  domes,  occupying  a  commanding  position  on  the 
high  sloping  bank  on  our  .right. 

So  far  as  the  trade  of  the"  West  is  concerned,  Albhhy  is  at  the 
head  of  the  navigation  of  the  Hudson.  It  has  two  highways  to  the 
sea  ;  one  the  Western  railway,  leading  due  east  for  200  miles  to 
Boston  ;  the  other  the  Hudson,  leading  due  south  to  New  York. 
By  canal,  lake,  and  rail,  it  has  ready  access  due  north  to  Montreal ;  and 
by  canal  and  railway  the  same,  due  west  to  the  lakes.  It  is  in  every 
point  of  view,  therefore,  advantageously  situated  as  an  internal  entrepot, 
being  the  converging  focus  of. four  great  highways,  natural  and  arti- 
ficial, from  the  four  points  of  the  compass.  There  is  an  upper  and 
a  lower  town,  the  chief  connexi6n  between  which  is  State  street, 
which  descends  the  steep  bank  in  a  straight  line  from  the  capitol 
almost  to  the  river.  The  lower  town  is  rather  crowded,  chiefly  owing 
to  the  narrow  slip  of  land  to  which  it  has  to  accommodate  itself. 
Albany  is,  on  the  whole,  well  built,  and  being  the  seat  of  government 
for  the  State,  possesses  many  very  showy  public  edifices.  It  is  rapidly 
growing,  its  population  being  now  about  50,000. 

I  was  invited,  on  my  way  to  New  York,  to  spend  a  few  days  with 
a  friend  at  the  village  of  Hyde  Park,  about  halfway  down  the  Hud- 
son, on  its  left  bank.  To  be  there  by  an  early  hour  in  the  morning, 
I  left  Albany  by  a  steamer  which  left  for  New  York  late  at  night. 
It  WHS  one  of  the  last  family  of  boats  launched  upon  the  Hudson, 
arid  which  are  entirely  fitted  up,  with  the  exception  of  the  space 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  217 

occupied  by  the  engines  and  boilers,  for  the  accommodation  of  pas- 
sengers. She  was  of  prodigious  length,  and  bore  some  resemblance 
to  a  great  bird,  with  its  wings  expanded.  Her  hull  was  like  a  large 
board  turned  upon  edge.  As  it  was  dark,  and  objects  ashore  scarcely 
visible,  and  as  I  had  but  a  few  hours  to  sleep,  I  retired  to  my  berth 
soon  after  starting.  In  ascending  and  descending  the  river  the  boats 
make  very  brief  stoppages  at  the  intermediate  towns,  and  to  be  ready 
to  go  aslwre  as  soon  as  we  reached  Hyde  Park,  I  but  partially  un- 
dressed, and  threw  myself  on  the  top  of  the  berth,  with  a  Scotch 
plaid  over  me.  Mine  was  the  upper  of  two  berths  which  occupied 
the  state-room,  or  small  cabin,  which  was  one  of  about  a  hundred 
that  led  off  the  great  saloon,  the  lower  berth  being  occupied  by  a 
somewhat  elderly  gentleman,  who  had  gone  to  bed  immediately  on 
getting  aboard,  and  had  slept  soundly  through  the  noise  and  hubbub 
of  starting.  I  had  been  asleep  for  some  time,  when  I  was  awaked 
by  the  noise  of  feet,  rushing  to  and  fro,  directly  overhead.  I  had  no 
time- even  to  conjecture  the  cause  of  it,  when  a  tremendous  crash 
i.mrneJiately  below  me,  accompanied  by  a  howl  and  cry  of  terror 
from  the  old  gentleman,  convinced  me  that  something  dreadful  had 
happened,  or  was  about  to  do  so.  On  looking  over  the  edge  of  my 
berth  to  ascertain  what  had  occurred,  I  perceived  a  huge  rounded 
beam,  shod  with  iron,  and  garnished  with  some  ropes  and  chains, 
projecting  for  a  few  feet  into  the  cabin,  directly  over  the  old  gentle- 
man's berth,  to  which  it  confined  hi-m,  having,  in  entering,  almost 
grated  his  chest.  I  immediately  sprung  into  the  saloon  and  called 
for  one  of  the  stewards,  by  whose  aid  the  captive  was  released,  and 
just  in  time;  for  no  sooner  was  he  on  his  legs,  ere  the  schooner, 
whose  bowsprit  had  so  inopportunely  obtruded  itself  upon  us,  swung 
round  a  little,  when  the  obtrusive  bowsprit  was  withdrawn,  tearing 
away  many  of  the  boards  through  which  it  had  penetrated,  and 
carrying  off  some  of  the  bed  clothes  with  it,  which  dropped  into  the 
water.  Luckily,  the  old  gentleman  was  more  frightened  than  hurt; 
but  so  frightened  was  he,  that,  on  finding  himself  at  liberty,  he 
bounded  into  the  saloon  in  his  shirt,  fled  as  if  a  bulldog  were  pur- 
suing him,  and  did  not  stop  till  he  reached  the  other  end  of  the 
huge  cabin.  By  this  time  a  number  of  ladies  had  popped  their 
heads  out  of  their  stateroom  doors,  anxiously  inquiring  what  was 
the  matter,  but  suddenly  withdrew  them,  in  still  greater  alarm,  on 
witnessing  so  awkward  an  apparition.  The  accident  occurred  near 
the  city  of  Hudson,  a  few  seconds  after  the  steam  had  been  shot 
off  to  enable  us  to  halt  at  the  town,  the  current  drifting  the  boat 
against  a  schooner  which  was  lying  at  anchor,  and  which  was  in- 
visible, owing  to  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  her  neglect  to  carry 
a  light.  It  is  seldom  that  any  steamboat  accident  occurs  on  the 
Hudson.  Frequent  as  they  unfortunately  are  in  the  South,  particu- 
VOL.  II.— 19 


218  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

larly  on  the  Mississippi,  they  are  as  rare  on  the  northern  waters  as 
they  are  with  ourselves. 

In  a  few  minutes  we  got  disengaged  from  our  awkward  predica- 
ment, and  proceeded  on  our  way.  I  was  so  discomposed,  however, 
by  what  had  happened,  that  I  thought  no  more  of  sleep;  so,  com- 
pleting my  toilette,  I  went  upon  deck  where  1  remained  till  we 
reached  Hyde  Park,  at  which  I  landed  at  an  early  hour. 

I  here  spent  three  days  of  unmixed  enjoynient  with  my  friend  and 
his  estimable  family.  He  was  a  resident  of  New  York,  where  he 
was  known  and  universally  respected  for  his  affability,  probity,  and 
benevolence;  but  he  generally  spent  a  great  portion  of  the  summer 
on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  He  has  since  paid,  the  debt  which  we 
all  owe  to  nature.  He  was  a  native  of  Ireland,  but  had  resided  for 
about  twenty  years  in  New  York.  He  was  indefatigable  in  his 
endeavours,  during  their  prevalence,  to  calm  the  fierce  excitements 
engendered  by  the  Oregon  question,  appealing  in  behalf  of  compro- 
mise and  peace,  not  only  to  the  good  feeling  and  interests  of  those 
around  him,  but  also  to  many  occupying  the  highest  stations,  both  in 
the  commercial  and  in  the  political  circles  of  this  country.  Men 
high  in  power  here  perused  these  appeals,  and  the  remonstrances 
which  accompanied  them,  nor  were  they  without  their  effect. 
There  were  few  in  New  York  held  in  such  universal  esteem,  or  so 
favourably  known  to  men  in  high  position  here,  in  connexion  with 
politics  and  trade,  as  the  late  JACOB  HARVEY. 

I  have  known  several  who  had  sailed  upon  the  most  vaunted  of 
the  European  rivers,  express  an  unqualified  opinion  to  the  effect  that 
the  Hudson  was,  in  point  of  scenery,  superior  to  them  all.  It  is  a 
noble  stream,  both  in  itself  and  the  purposes  to  which  it  is  applicable 
and  applied.  The  country  on  either  side  of  it  is  cultivated  like  a 
garden,  and  from  the  town  of  Glen's  Falls  to  the  city  of  New  York 
it  is  studded  on  either  bank  with  a  succession  of  cities,  towns,  and 
villages.  For  some'distance  below  Albany,  its  banks  are  compara- 
tively tame,  but  by-and-by  they  swell  on  the  right,  a  little  back  from 
the  stream,  into  the  majestic  proportions  of  the  Caatskill  Mountains. 
Hyde  Park  is  a  little  below  these,  on  the  opposite  side,  at  a  point 
where,  in  bending  round,  the  Hudson  forms  a  small  lake,  studded 
with  islets.  A  finer  view  can  scarcely  be  imagined  than  that  ob- 
tained, looking  towards  the  hills,  from  the  high  bank  overhanging 
the  river  at  Hyde  Park.  I  have  enjoyed  it  in  Mr.  Harvey's  com- 
pany, by  night  and  by  day,  in  fierce  sunshine,  and  in  bright  cold 
moonlight.  The  combination  of  land  and  water,  and  of  all  that 
tends  to  make  up  a  magnificent  landscape,  is  almost  perfect.  The 
eye  leaps  over  the  intervening  tree-tops,  upon  the  broad  volume  of 
the  islet-studded  Hudson,  across  which  it  wanders  to  alight  upon  a 
large  expanse  of  undulating  country,  half  cultivated  and  half  wooded, 
after  ranging  over  which  it  reaches  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  to  the 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  219 

dreamy  heights  of  which  it  then  climbs.  When  looking  at  the  hills, 
I  used  to  amuse  myself  in  fancying  that  I  could  pick  out  the  spot, 
on  their  deeply  wooded  sides,  where  Rip  Van  Winkle  slept  through 
the  Revolution. 

In  company  with  Mr.  Harvey,  I  visited  Mr.  Robert  Emmett,  the 
nephew  of  him  whom  the  law  in  Ireland,  upwards  of  forty  years 
ago,  claimed  as  its  victim.  His  home  was  about  two  miles  from 
Hyde  Park,  overlooking  the  river  at  the  point  where,  perhaps,  the 
finest  view  of  the  prospect,  just  alluded  to,  can  be  obtained.  We 
were  well  received  by  him  and  his  lively  and  pretty  little  wife.  He 
was  both  intelligent  and  communicative,  but  seemed  more  disposed 
for  a  quiet  life  than  for  the  turmoil  and  strife  of  politics.  His  time 
was  chiefly  divided  between  his  farm  and  his  garden.  His  name 
was  pretty  freely  mixed  up  with  the  Irish  demonstrations  of  last 
year  in  New  York  ;  but  this,  I  presume,  was  more  in  deference  to 
the  wishes  of  others,  who  desired  to  have  the  use  of  a  name  having 
no  little  influence  with  Irishmen,  both  at  home  arid  abroad,  than 
from  any  yearning  on  his  own  part  to  exchange  the  peaceable  occu- 
pations of  country  life  for  the  turbulent  orgies  of  Tammany  Hall. 

On  leaving  Hyde  Park,  my  destination  was  West  Point,  about 
forty  miles  below  ;  a  spot  possessing  some  interest,  not  only  from 
the  romantic  nature  of  its  position,  and  the  part  which  it  played  in 
the  revolutionary  war,  but  also  from  its  being  now  the  military 
academy  of  the  United  States.  About  thirty  miles  below  Hyde 
Park  the  stream  meets  with  a  ridge  of  hills  known  as  the  High- 
lands of  the  Hudson,  through  which  it  forces  its  way  by  a  narrow, 
winding  and  very  romantic  channel.  The  town  of  Newburg  lies 
upon  its  right  bank,  just  above  its  entrance  into  the  gorge.  About 
midway  between  Newburg  ;and  the  Tappan  Zee,  on  the  other  side 
of  the  ridge,  is  West  Point,  completely  imbedded  amongst  the  hills, 
the  river,  at  the  narrowest  part  of  its  channel,  sweeping  round  three 
sides  of  it,  which  gives  it  the  command  of  several  miles  of  the 
stream,  at  the  most  critical  point  of  its  navigation.  This  point  is 
the  key  of  the  Hudson.  It  is,  in  fact,  to  the  Hudson  what  Rouse's 
Point  is  to  Lake  Champlain.  It  was  this  important  position  that 
General  Arnold  was  about  to  deliver  up  to  the  British  during  the 
revolutionary  war,  a  project  which  was  defeated  by  the  capture  of 
the  unfortunate  Andre.  It  is,  perhaps,  as  well  for  all  parties  that 
it  did  not  succeed,  for  the  possession  of  West  Point  by  the  imperial 
forces  would,  in  all  probability,  have  changed  the  whole  aspect  of 
the  war. 

It  is  here  that  the  future  officers  of  the  American  army  are 
taught  those  branches  of  general  and  military  education  most  be- 
fitting the  career  on  which  they  are  about  to  enter.  The  establish- 
ment belongs  of  course  to  the  general  government,  and  is  under 
its  exclusive  management  and  control.  There  is  much  conflict  of 


220  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

opinion  in  the  United  States  as  to  the  necessity  for,  or  the  utility 
of,  such  an  institution  as  that  at  West  Point.  Its  object  is  to  pre- 
pare officers  cut  arid  dry  for  the  service;  those  who  are  in  favour  of 
the  establishment  maintaining  that  too  much  attention  cannot  be 
paid  to  the  military  education  of  those  who  may  be  called  upon,  at 
some  future  day,  to  lead  the  armies  of  the  United  States.  Others, 
who  do  riot  deny  the  desirableness  of  such  an  education,  object  to 
confining  every  post  beyond  the  ranks  in  the  army  to  the  cadets  of 
the  military  academy.  A  private  in  the  British  army  may  rise  to  be 
a  field  officer,  but  not  so  in  America.  The  private  in  the  latter 
may  be  better  paid  than  in  the  former,  but  his  prospect  is  by  no 
means  so  brilliant.  There  is  not  an  office  in  the  State,  but  is  open 
to  the  obscurest  individual,  if  he  can  beat  his  multitudinous  com- 
petitors in  the  race  for  it.  The  army  is  not  so  democratically  con- 
stituted. Its  more  desirable  posts,  its  dignities  and  honours,  are 
almost  exclusively  confined  to  a  few,  who  have  sufficient  influence 
to  get  admittance  to  an  institution,  where  they  undergo  a  proba- 
tionary curriculum.  This  is  enough  to  discourage  many  a  man 
from  entering  the  army  as  a  private,  who  might  Otherwise  do  so. 
If  it  is  the  policy  of  the  American  government  to  check  the  military 
spirit,  this  certainly  tends  to  the  accomplishment  of  its  object. 

Republics  are  accused  of  being  prone  to  war.  This  may  be 
partly  accounted  for  by  the  citizen  of  a  republic  feeling  that  he 
participates  more  in  the  glory  and  honour  of  his  country  than  the 
subject  of  a  monarchy,  as  well.as  feeling  himself  more  directly  in- 
volved in  her  quarrels.  When  the  government  is  of  his  own  crea- 
tion, the  position  of  his  government  in  regard  to  a  foreign  power  he 
feels  to  be  his  own.  It  is  otherwise  in  a  purely  monarchical  State, 
where  the  government  is  independent  of,  and  has  separate  interests 
from  those  of  the  people.  The  attitude  assumed  by  their  respective 
courts  is  not  necessarily  that  of  one  people  towards  another.  The 
governments  of  Russia  and  Austria  may  be  at  loggerheads  with 
each  other,  and  yet  no  enmity  exist  between  the  people  of  the  two 
empires,  except  such  as  is  created  by  law.  But  in  a  republic  each 
citizen  espouses  the  quarrel  of  his  government  as  his  own;  and  is 
but  too  ready  frequently  to  sustain  it  in  any  project  of  aggression 
which  promises  to  bring  an  accession  of  territory,  honour,  or  glory 
to  his  country,  and  by  consequence,  partly  to  himself. 

The  Americans  have  been  regarded  as  forming  no  exception,  in 
this  respect,  to  the  general  rule.  But  the  military  propensities  of 
the  American  people  have  been  very  much  exaggerated.  They  are 
far  more  ready  to  assume  a  belligerent  attitude  in  their  national, 
than  they  are  to  fight  in  their  individual  capacity.  There  is  no  one 
more  ready  to  follow  up  at  all  hazards  the  fortunes  of  his  country, 
or  who  more  warmly  or  readily  espouses  his  country's  quarrels,  than 
the  American.  He  is  ready  to  risk  the  chances  of  war,  if  necessary 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  221 

to  vindicate  her  honour,  or  to  secure  her  a  tempting  prize  at  which 
she  has  any  pretext  for  grasping.  But  all  this  ardour  and  enthu- 
siasm resolve  themselves,  as  a  general  rule,  more  into  a  willingness 
to  submit  to  the  national  drawbacks  of  a  state  of  hostility,  and  to 
give  up  his  means  and  substance  to  maintain  the  war,  than  to  sub- 
ject himself  personally  to  the  privations  of  a  campaign.  -How  could 
it  be  otherwise  in-a  country  circumstanced  as  America  is?  Where 
employment  is  sure  and  wages  high,  men  are  not  very  willing  to 
subject  themselves  to  the  hardships  and  rigid  discipline  of  a  soldier's 
life.  The  volunteers  who  flocked  to  the  Mexican  war  were  lured 
into  the  field  more  by  the  hope  of  realising  rich  prizes  at  the  ene- 
my's expense,  than  from  any  very  great  love  of  military  adventure. 
At  first  a  general  enthusiasm  pervaded  all  ranks,  and  it  really  seemed 
as  if  all  were  ready  to  buckle  on  their  armour.  But  this  soon  sub- 
sided, and  by-and-by  the  war  grew  stale.  The  volunteers  who  did 
come  forward,  were  either  restless  spirits  from  the  West,  to  whom 
any  adventure  is  a  godsend,  or  the  mere  offscourings  of  the  sea- 
board cities.  A  very  large  proportion  of  them  were  foreigners. 
Add  to  this  that  the  great  bulk  of  the  American  army  is  composed 
not  of  natives  but  of  foreigners.  The  same  may  be  said  of  those 
manning  the  navy.  The  life  of  an  American  soldier  is  by  no  means 
a  pleasant  one,  considering  the^  unhealthiness  of  some  of  their 
military  posts,  and  the  remoteness  of  many  of  them  from  the  haunts 
of  civilized  man.  It  is  not  likely,  therefore,  that  men  who  can 
easily  make  more  than  a  competence  at  the  plough  or  at  their 
trades,  will  suffer  a  military  propensity  so  far  to  get  the  better  of 
them  as  to  impel  them  to  enlist. 

But  it  may  be  urged  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  sound  and  fury 
in  the  United  States,  which  must  surely  signify  something  in  the  way 
of  the  populace  being  disposed  to  military  life.  It  signifies  very 
little  in  this  way.  When  a  dispute  arises  between  them  and  another 
people,  the  Americans  assume  a  very  bellicose  language,  and 
generally,  in  such  cases,  mean  what  they  say.  But  this,  as  already 
intimated,  does  not  indicate  a  readiness  on  their  parts  personally  to 
take  the  field,  draw  the  sword,  or  carry  the  musket.  It  merely  tes- 
tifies their  readiness  to  run  the  risks  of  war  as  a  people,  to  incur  its 
expense  and  abide  its  issues.  But,  again,  it  may  be  said,  that  the 
number  of  independent  volunteer  companies  which  are  found  in 
every  part  of  the  Union,  proves  that  the  people  are,  individually, 
prone  to  military  life.  There  is  a  great  difference,  however,  between 
"  playing  at  soldiers"  and  being  soldiers  in  earnest.  To  enrol  them- 
selves into  a  company  called  by  some  very  sounding  names;  to  wear 
fine  clothes,  and  have  brilliant  plumes  waving  over  their  heads;  to 
march,  every  now  and  then,  in  military  array,  the  wonder  of  a  crowd 
cf  gnping  boys,  and  the  admiration  of  the  young  ladies  who  present 
them  with  banners;  to  undergo  occasionally  a  review,  and  to  eii- 


222  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

gage,  to  the  terror  of  o]d  women,  in  platoon  firing,  with  blank 
cartridge,  in  the  streets, — is  a  pastime  perhaps  harmless  after  all,  for 
young  men  who  have  a  little  time  npon  their  hands,  a  little  spare 
cash  in  their  pockets,  and  few  other  sources  of  amusement  at  com- 
mand. But  all  tin's  is  no  proof  that  these  valiant  men-at-arms,  who 
generally  wind  up  an  afternoon's  marching  and  countermarching  with 
a  good  supper  or  a  ball,  are  ready  to  go  to  the  cannon's  mouth,  or  to 
abandon  their  peaceful  pursuits  for  the  privations  of  an  actual  cam- 
paign. This  holiday  soldiering  is  only,  after  all,  but  a  kind  of  mature 
child's  play.  Let  me  not  be  understood  to  mean  that  the  Americans 
are  deficient  in  personal  courage.  Should  their  country  be  invaded, 
none  would  be  found  more  ready  to  turn  out  and  defend  their  altars 
and  their  hearths.  But  so  long  as  they  are  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances at  home,  they  will  not  be  emulous  to  take  the  field,  unless 
some  strong  exciting  cause,  like  an  invasion  of  their  territory,  impel 
them  so  to  do.  Nor  let  the  love  of  some  of  them  for  now  and  then 
attiring  themselves  in  military  habiliments  argue  anything  to  the 
contrary. 

The  portion  of  the  population  exhibiting  to  the  greatest  extent 
the  martial  propensity,  is  that  domiciled  in  the  north-west.  There 
are. many  restless  spirits  residing  to  the  north  and  north-west  of  the 
Ohio,  so  fond  of  adventure,  that  they  will,  in  most  cases,  undergo 
any  personal  risks  in  pursuit  of  it. 'When,  in  addition  to  this  innate 
love  of  adventure  for  its  own  sake,  a  great  prize  is  presented  to^them, 
the  securing  of  which  will  enure  to  their  individual  advantage  and 
to  the  glorification  of  the  Union,  they  are  ready  to  leave  home  and 
friends  to  grasp  at  it.  But  by-and-by,  when  this  part  of  the  country 
is  more  advanced,  and  property  in  it  becomes  more  valuable,  render- 
ing a  permanent  settlement  in  it,  a  thing  once  obtained  not  to  be 
lightly  thrown  away,  this  restlessness  will  greatly  disappear,  and  the 
people  sober  down  to  the  tone  of  the  great  bulk  of  their  countrymen. 
Besides,  there  is  this  also  to  account  for  the  west  being  more  reck- 
less of  war  than  the  other  sections  of  the  country,  that  unless  the 
people  there  choose  to  subject  themselves  to  them,  they  would  be 
the  last  to  feel  its  privations.  The  Union  is  vulnerable  on  three  sides, 
but  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi  would  be  secure  from  the  horrors 
of  war,  should  it  arise. 

Until  within  a  few  years  back  the  United  States  army  did  not  ex- 
ceed 8,000  men,  It  was  found,  however,  that  as  the  Republic 
extended  its  boundaries  and  multiplied  its  military  posts  in  the  remote 
wildernesses  which  circumscribe  it  on  the  west  and  north-west,  this 
number  did  not  suffice  to  garrison  and  keep  in  repair  the  more  im- 
portant military  stations,  scattered  at  long  intervals  along  its  extensive 
frontier.  The  standing  army  was  therefore  increased  about  seven 
years  ago  to  12,000  men,  at  which  point  it  remained  till  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  Mexican  war.  It  was  then  necessarily  increased,  but 


THE   WESTERN   WORLI>.  223 

for  the  year  1848,  which  witnessed  the  successful  close  of  the  war, 
it  did  not  exceed  *25,000  men.  Of  the  American  forces  which  took 
part  in  the  Mexican  campaigns,  the  volunteers  formed  a  large  and 
important  ingredient. 

The  American  navy  in  1848  was  on  an  equally  limited  scale, 
although  the  war  lasted  till  about  the  middle  of  that  year.  The  total 
number  of  vessels  of  all  kinds  connected  with  it  in  November  last 
amounted  to  eighty-seven  ;  of  which  eleven  were  ships  of  the  line, 
fourteen  were  frigates,  twenty-two  were  sloops  of  war,  ten  were 
schooners,  and  fourteen  were  steamers.  The  war  did  not  occasion 
a  similar  increase  in  the  navy  to  that  called  for  in  the  army,  inasmuch 
as  the  Mexicans  had  no  navy  to  cope  with ;  at  the  same  time  that, 
to  their  honour,  they  refrained  from  issuing  letters  of  marque.  This 
naval  force  suffices  for  the  protection  of  American  commerce,  which, 
if  not  as  yet  absolutely  as  large  as  our  own,  spreads,  in  its  multiform 
operations,  over  an  equally  extensive  surface. 

There  are,  undoubtedly,  interests  at  work  in  the  United  States 
which  would  benefit,  as  in  this  country,  by  the  indefinite  extension 
of  the  military  establishments.  But  mighty  armaments,  particularly 
in  the  form  of  land  forces,  would  be  incompatible  with  the  objects 
and  inimical  to  the  very  genius  of  the  American  constitution.  The 
government  was  conceived  in  the  spirit  of  peace,  and  framed  more 
with  a  view  to  aid  and  encourage  the  development  of  the  peaceful 
arts,  than  to  promote  a  martial  spirit  in  the  people,  or  to  throw  the 
destinies  of  the  country  into  a  military  channel.  Not  only  do  the 
views,  sentiments,  and  occupations  of  the  American  people  indispose 
them  to  any  great  permanent  increase  of  the  military  establishments, 
but  there  are,  as  I  found,  conflicting  elements  at  work  in  different 
sections  of  the  Confederacy,  which  would  of  themselves  suffice  to 
confine  them  to  moderate  limits.  Whilst  it  is  the  object  of  the  sea- 
board States,  in  which  the  chief  commercial  and  shipping  interests 
of  the  Union  are  centred,  to  increase,  the  navy,  the  West  is  averse  to 
its  extension,  having  no  direct  interests  to  subserve  by  its  increase. 
The  West,  on  the  other  hand,  would  have  no  great  objection  to  some 
increase  in  the  army,  but  the  sea-board  States,  having  little  or  nothing 
to  gain  from  such  a  step,  are  averse  to  its  being  taken.  Thus, 
between  their  conflicting  views  and  wishes,  the  establishments,  ex- 
cept in  cases  of  extraordinary  emergency,  are  not  likely  to  receive 
any  very  great  accession  of  strength.  This  at  all  events  may  be  said, 
that  no  accession  will  be  made  to  either  of  them  until  a  clear  case  of 
necessity  for  it  is  made  out.  The  average  annual  cost  of  the  United 
States  navy  for  the  last  ten  years  has  not  exceeded  1,295,OQQ/.  The 
average  annual  cost  of  the  army  for  the  same  period  has  been  about 
2,500,000/.,  but  this  includes  not  only  the  extraordinary  military  ex- 
penditure occasioned  for  some  years  by  the  Seminole  war,  but  also  a 
portion  of  that  called  for  during  the  first  year  of  the  Mexican  war. 


224  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

Making  due  allowance  for  this  extraordinary  expenditure,  the  average 
cost  per  annum  of  the  army  will  not  exceed  1,590,GOO/.  Taking 
the  two  services  together,  their  average  cost  per  year  is  thus  shown 
to  be  about  2,795,000/. ;  about  one-sixth  of  the  sum  which  we  are 
now  called  upon  to  pay  for  our  armaments. 

It  may  be  urged  that  the  great  reason  why  the  American  estab- 
lishments are  kept  at  so  low  a  point  is,  that  the  military  exigencies 
of  the  country  are  not  so  great  as  they  formerly  were.  It  is  quite 
true  that,  as  the  Republic  has  extended  itself,  its  military  boundary, 
in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term,  instead  of  increasing,  has  diminished. 
At  the  peace  of  1783  it  was  enclosed  on  three  sides  by  the  depen- 
dencies of  foreign  powers.  The  British  provinces  overhung  it  on 
the  north,  the  vast  French  possession  of  Louisiana  spread  along  its 
entire  western  boundary,  and  the  colonies  of  Spain  underlay  it,  as 
it  were,  on  the  south.  Since  that  time  it  has  acquired  Louisiana 
from  France  and  the  Floridas  from  Spain,  and  has  recently  pushed 
its  boundaries  westward  to  the  Pacific.  Its  hind  boundaries  are 
now  confined  to  the  line  separating  it  from  the  British  posses- 
sions on  the  north,  and  that  which  divides  it  from  what  now  remains 
of  Mexico,  to  the  south.  But  with  the  diminution  of  its  land 
boundary  its  sea  coast  has  greatly  increased.  At  the  peace  its  only 
sea-board  was  on  the  Atlantic,  stretching  from  the  Bay  of  Fundy  to 
the  mouth  of  the  SL  Mary's,  which  separated  it  from  Florida.  It 
afterwards  crept  round  the  immense  peninsula  of  that  name,  and 
along  the  northern  shore  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  beyond  the  mouths 
of  the  Appalachicola,  the  Alabama,  and  the  Mississippi,  to  that  of 
the  Sabine.  Thence  it  proceeded  westward  to  the  Neuces,  and 
lastly  to  the  Rio  Grande  itself,  the  left  bank  of  which  now  forms  its 
south-western  boundary.  It  thus  gradually  possessed  itself  of  the 
Atlantic  and  Gulf  shores  of  Florida,  the  whole  north  coast,  and  the 
north-western  angle  of  the  Gulf.  In  addition  to  this,  it  has  lately 
acquired  an  immense  stretch  of  sea-board,  from  the  Straits  of  Fuca, 
the  northern  point  of  American  Oregon,  to  the  southern  limit  of 
Upper  California.  But  with  this  immense  accession  of  sea-coast  the 
American  navy  has  shown  no  greater  tendency  to  extension  than 
has  the  army.  Indeed,  the  chief  extension  which  has  taken  place 
has  been  in  connexion  with  the  latter,  for  although  the  land  line 
has  diminished  as  that  of  the  sea-board  has  increased,  civilization 
in  its  rapid  spread  westward  has  required,  for  its  protection  against 
the  Indians,  that  a  more  efficient  military  cordon  should  be  kept  in 
advance  of  it,  than  was  necessary  when  it  was  confined  to  the  east- 
ward of  the  Mississippi. 

It  is  not  easy  to  estimate  the  effect  which  these  enormous  acces- 
sions of  sea-board  are  calculated  to  have  upon  the  naval  resources 
of  America.  This  much,  however,  may  be  safely  taken  for  granted, 
that  the  increase  with  which  they  have  been  attended,  to  the  naval 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  225 

strength  of  the  country,  has  not  been  commensurate  with  their  own 
extent.  As  compared  with  the  American  line  of  coast,  the  British 
American  available  sea-board  is  small.  But  its  importance  in  a 
naval  point  of  view  is  as  it  were  in  the  inverse  ratio  of  its  extent. 
Both  on  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific  the  British  flag  yet  waves  over 
the  most  important  harbours  in  a  military  point  of  view,  and  over 
the  most  commanding  line  of  sea-board.  The  British  available  sea- 
board on  both  sides  of  the  continent  is  not,  in  extent,  more  than 
one-fourth  the  whole  sea  coast  of  the  Union,  yet  the  possession  of 
it  would  at  once  treble  the  naval  strength  of  the  Union.  Not  only 
are  Bermuda,  Halifax,  and  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence  military 
stations  of  the  highest  importance,  but  the  possession  of  our  North 
American  provinces  would  put  the  finest  fisheries  in  the  world  into 
the  hands  of  our  rivals. 

In  perusing  these  paragraphs  the  reader  cannot  fail  to  be  struck 
with  the  contrast  which  they  present  between  our  own  military 
establishments  and  those  of  the  United  States.  It  may  very  truly 
be  urged,  that  the  military  exigencies  of  Europe  are  not  to  be  mea- 
sured by  those  of  America.  But  although  there  is,  in  this  respect, 
a  great  difference  between  America  and  a  continental  State,  the 
difference  is  not  so  great  between  the  United  States  and  Great 
Britain.  Thanks  to  their  isolation  from  Europe,  the  Americans  are 
under  no  necessity  to  keep  large  and  expensive  military  establish- 
ments on  foot.  But  are  not  we  also  isolated  from  Europe?  We 
are  nearer  to  it,  it  is  true,  but  our  isolation  from  it  is  as  complete  as 
is  that  of  the  United  States.  The  immense  advantage  which  this  gave 
us,  we  have  not  only  trifled  with,  but  thrown  away.  Since  the 
"  balance  of  power"  came  to  be  a  leading  and  favourite  notion  with 
European  diplomatists,  we  have  needlessly  mixed  ourselves  up  with 
every  great  and  every  petty  squabble  that  has  happened  on  the  con- 
tinent. The  result  has  been  as  unfavourable  to  us  as  if  the  channel 
had  beeiyiried  up,  and  we  had  been  long  ago  geographically  annexed 
to  the  continent.  We  have  unnecessarily  worked  ourselves  into  a 
position  which  we  might  easily  have  avoided,  and  from  which,  it 
must  be  confessed,  it  is  not  now  easy  to  recede,  even  were  we  unani- 
mous as  to  the  propriety  of  so  doing.  But  instead  of  lessening  our 
difficulties  in  this  respect,  and  taking  all  the  economic  advantages 
of  our  position  which  it  is  calculated  to  confer  upon  us,  we  are 
involving  ourselves  every  year  more  and  more  in  the  vortex  of  con- 
tinental politics,  and  are  consequently  called  upon  to  increase  rather 
than  to  diminish  our  armaments.  With  Sicily  and  Lombardy, 
Rome  and  the  "  two  duchies"  to  take  care  of,  to  say  nothing  of  our 
quarrel  with  Spain,  and  our  recent  interference  with  the  Portuguese, 
the  prospect  before  us  is  not  very  encouraging.  We  have  two 
courses  to  pursue,  either  to  go  on  systematically  intermeddling  with 
affairs  in  which  we  are  not  necessarily  concerned,  until  we  concern 


226  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

ourselves  with  them,  thus  subjecting  ourselves  to  the  military  neces- 
sities of  a  continental  State;  or  to  relapse  as  it  were  into  ourselves, 
devote  our  attention  as  exclusively  as  possible  to  our  home  and 
colonial  affairs,  take  advantage  of  our  defensive  position,  conform 
our  military  establishments  to  the  measure  of  our  strict  wants,  and 
curtail  our  extravagance.  It  is  not  necessarily  England's  mission 
to  undertake  the  quixotic  enterprise  of  keeping  the  world  right.  In 
attempting  it  heretofore,  if  she  has  not  received  many  cuffs  and 
bruises,  she  has  at  least  had  to  submit  to  enormous  abstractions  of 
her  treasure.  Let  her  keep  herself  right,  and  in  the  industrious, 
peaceable  attitude  which  she  will  then  assume,  she  will  do  far  more 
towards  traquillising  the  continent,  than  by  vexatiously  interfering 
in  every  political  movement  that  occurs. 

But  the  most  plausible  excuse  offered  for  the  greatness  of  our 
military  establishments  is  the  vast  extent  of  our  colonial  dominions. 
As  to  how  far  every  one  of  the  forty  colonies  or  so  which  we  possess 
is  of  use  to  us,  is  a  question  into  which  I  have  here  no  intention  of 
entering.  It  may  be  said,  however,  in  passing,  that  some  of  the 
finest  of  them  are  comparatively  useless  to  us,  simply  because  the 
colonial  department  either  cannot  or  will  not  turn  them  to  profitable 
account.  The  only  point  with  which  we  have  here  to  deal  is, 
whether  the  excuse  alluded  to  is  a  valid  one  or  not.  If  we  are  to 
have  colonies,  nobody  can  reasonably  grudge  whatever  is  necessary 
for  their  protection.  But  the  question  is,  what  is  necessary  for 
this  purpose?  It  would  seem  that,  in  the  estimation  of  one  class 
at  least  in  this  country,  a  department  cannot  be  efficient  unless  it  is 
extravagant,  although  daily  experience  teaches  the  contrary,  some 
of  our  most  extravagant  being  amongst  our  least  efficient  depart- 
ments. The  colonial  department  has,  within  the  last  seventy  years, 
undergone  in  this  respect  a  modification  for  the  worse.  Previously 
to  the  American  war,  without  leaving  the  colonies  unnecessarily 
exposed,  we  taught  them  the  useful  lesson  of  self-reliance.  The 
consequence  was  that,  until  we  attempted  to  avert,  in  1776,  an  irre- 
sistible event,  some  of  the  noblest  colonies  that  we  ever  possessed 
cost  us  but  little  either  to  govern  or  to  defend  them.  Nor  were 
these  colonies  wanting  in  formidable  enemies,  against  whom  they 
had  to  be  on  their  guard.  They  had  at  first  the  fierce  and  cunning 
Indian  to  cope  with,  and  were  afterwards  hemmed  in  on  three 
sides  by  France  and  Spain,  who  had  the  Indians  frequently  in 
league  with  them.  Against  all  these  they,  in  the  main,  defended 
themselves,  sometimes  coping  single-handed  with  their  enemies, 
and  at  others  forming  leagues,  the  germs  of  the  future  Union,  for 
their  common  defence.  Having  thus  to  bear  the  brunt  of  the  fight, 
and  the  chief  expenses  of  the  war  when  it  arose,  they  were  chary 
of  getting  into  quarrels  with  their  neighbours,  their  interests  being 
identified  with  peace.  But  this  policy,  at  once  so  useful  to  the 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  227 

colonies  and  convenient  to  the  mother  country,  was  afterwards 
abandoned,  and  another  inaugurated  in. its  stead,  the  practical  ope- 
ration of  which  is  to  keep  the  colonies  as  much  and  as  long  as  pos- 
sible in  leading-strings,  and  the  tendency  if  not  the  object  of  which 
is  to  destroy  in  them  every  principle  of  self-reliance.  We  teach 
them  that  almost  everything  will  be  done  for  them  by  us,  and  at  our 
expense.  We  will  govern  them  at  our  expense,  «and  if  they  get  into 
quarrels  we  will  work  them  out  of  them  at  our  expense.  The  con- 
sequence is,  that  governing  them  at  our  expense  gives  us  a  pretext  for 
vexatiously  interfering  in  the  conduct  of  their  local  government ; 
whilst,  by  protecting  them  at  our  expense,  we  make  it  their  interest, 
in  many  cases,  to  get  into  quarrels  with  their  neighbours  instead  of 
remaining  at  peace  with  them.  One  can  understand  how  it  would 
subserve  the  interests  of  Cape  Town  that  the  colony  of  the  Cape 
should  be  at  war  with  the  Kaffirs  for  the  next  half  century,  so  long 
as  British  regiments  were  sent  there  to  spend  British  money  in  the 
colony,  and  the  commissariat  was  supplied  at  the  expense  of  the 
mother  country.  If  we  want  to  hear  little  of  Kaffir  wars,  let  us  put 
the  Cape  colony  on  the  footing  that  was  formerly  occupied  by  our 
dependencies  in  North  America. 

Besides,  if  it  is  simply  for  their  protection  that  we  keep  such  large 
armaments  in  and  about  our  colonies,  how  comes  it  that  the  more 
populous  they  are,  the  stronger  they  become,  and  consequently  the 
more  competent  to  protect  themselves,  the  more  troops  do  we  pour 
into  them?  Is  not  this  of  itself  the  most  damning  commentary 
that  can  be  offered  on  the  spirit  in  which  our  whole  colonial  system 
is  conceived?  The  truth  is,  that  we  send  additional  troops  to  them, 
in  order  to  enable  us,  as  they  wax  stronger,  to  continue  the  vexa- 
tious interference  in  their  local  affairs,  in  which  we  so  unwisely  per- 
severe. 

Our  peace  establishment  in  Canada  amounts  to  about  6,000  men. 
We  have,  in  addition  to  this,  a  large  naval  force  on  the  lakes,  and  of 
course  an  expensive  commissariat  for  the  supply  of  both  services. 
Wherefore,  at  present,  all  this  display  in  Canada?  By  what  foe  is 
it  menaced?  It  has  no  Indian  enemy  against  which  now  to  protect 
itself.  Do  we  apprehend  an  attack  upon  it  from  the  side  of  the 
United  States?  Such  cannot  be  effected  in  a  night,  and  wars  are 
not  now  declared  in  a  day.  If  the  Americans  meditated  an  attack, 
they  would  have  to  arm  for  the  purpose,  for  there  is  but  a  small  por- 
tion of  their  regular  army  on  the  Canadian  frontier.  Their  militia 
system  is  universal,  but  it  is  confessedly  inefficient.  Whilst  they 
were  arming,  what  would  prevent  Canada  from  arming  likewise? 
The  Canadians  are  more  of  a  military  people  than  the  Americans, 
and  in  Upper  Canada  particularly  there  are  elements  out  of  which 
a  strong  military  force  could  be  more  speedily  evoked  than  out  of  those 
existing  on  the  American  side  of  the  line.  Besides,  when  the 


228  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

Americans  were  arming,  what  would  prevent  us  from  sending  troops 
to  the  scene  of  danger  1  They  would  get  there  quite  as  soon  as  a 
force  could  be  raised  in  New  York.  If  we  have  (j,000  men  there 
now  for  the  defence  of  Canada,  we  have  more  than  we  require.  If 
they  are  there  to  keep  the  Canadians  down,  we  have  less  than  we 
require;  for  such  are  the  means  of  passive  resistance  at  their  dis- 
posal, that,  in  case  of  a  general  insurrection,  60,000  would  not 
suffice  to  suppress  it.  For  which  purpose  are  they  there?  If  for 
the  one,  the  means  are  inadequate  to  the  end ;  if  the  other,  the  end 
is  as  questionable  as  the  means  are  insufficient. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

EDUCATION    AND    LITERATURE    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES, 

Journey  from  West  Point,  by  New  York,  to  New  Haven. — Yale  College. — 
Education  in  the  United  States. — Principles  at  the  foundation  of  the  Political 
System  of  America. — Difference  between  these  and  the  fundamental  Elements 
of  Government  as  propounded  by  M.  Guizot. — Education  in  America  promoted 
independently  of  the  Church. — Educational  Systems  of  England  and  America 
compared. — Different  Schemes  in  the  different  States. — Education  in  New 
England. — System  in  Connecticut. — System  in  New  York. — Private  Semina- 
ries.— Sectarian  Establishments. — Results  of  Education  in  America. — Litera- 
ture of  America. — Encouragement  of  Literature  by  the  American  Govern- 
ment.— The  Newspaper  Press  in  America. — Price  of  Newspapers  in  England 
and  America. 

THE  tourist  may  spend  a  very  pleasant  day  or  two,  rambling  over 
West  Point  and  its  neighbourhood.  1  left  on  the  morning  after  my 
arrival  at  it,  and  in  half  an  hour  after  quitting  the  wharf  having 
emerged  from  the  highlands,  found  myself  on  the  noble  estuary  of 
the  Hudson,  already  alluded  to  as  the  Tappan  Zee.  New  York 
was  still  forty  miles  distant;  but  from  the  lofty  paddle-box  I  could 
discern  the  smoke  of  the  city  sullying  the  horizon  to  the  south. 
The  day  was  bright  and  clear ;  every  object  on  either  shore,  not- 
withstanding the  great  width  of  the  river  at  this  point,  being  visible 
to  us.  On  our  left  we  passed  Sing  Sing,  the  other  State  Prison,  or 
Penitentiary,  of  New  York,  and  the  mouth  of  the  Crolon,  a  portion 
of  whose  limped  waters,  as  has  been  shown,  are  diverted  for  the 
supply  of  the  city.  We  soon  had  the  "  Palisades"  on  our  right,  the 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  22$ 

New  Jersey  coast  of  the  river  being  here  lofty,  bold,  and  precipi- 
tous; masses  of  rock,  apparently  of  basaltic  formation,  overhanging 
the  water  in  columnar  grandeur.  The  New  Jersey  coast  on  the 
west  continues  nearly  up  to  -the  highlands,  whence,  upwards,  the 
river  is  exclusively  within  the  limits  of  New  York.  The  portion  of  that 
State  which  continues  along  its  eastern  side  down  to  the  city,  is  a 
perfect  contrast  to  the  bold,  rocky  bank  opposite.  The  New  York 
bank  is  lofty,  but  it  rises  gently,  with  undulations,  from  the  margin 
of  the  stream.  The  great  extent  of  surface  which  it  thus  exposes 
is  beautifully  cultivated,  and  dotted  with  mansions  and  farm-houses. 

Once  more  in  New  York,  which  presents  the  same  busy  and  stir- 
ring picture  of  impetuous  life  as  before.  Having  already,  however, 
sufficiently  described  the  city,  I  shall  not  delay  the  reader  with  any^ 
notice  of  my  second  visit.  I  prefer,  and  so,  no  doubt,  will  he,  that 
we  should  sail  together  up  the  Sound  to  New  Haven,  in  the  State 
of  Connecticut. 

The  site  of  this  town  is  very  picturesque.  Although  not  very 
populous,  it  presents,  from  the  water,  the  appearance  of  a  large  city, 
from  the  great  length  to  which-  it  extends  along  the  shore  of  the 
open  bay,  entering  from  the  Sound,  on  which  it  is  situated.  As  a 
place  of  residence  there  are  few  spots  more  inviting  than  New 
Haven.  It  looked  to  me  like  a  town  spending  the  summer  months 
in  the  country.  It  is  scattered  over  a  great  surface,  the  streets  being 
broad  and  spacious,  and  deeply  shaded  by  rows  of  the  most  stately 
elms.  But  that  which  gives  to  New  Haven  its  chief  interest  is  its 
being  the  seat  of  the  principal  University  in  the  United  States. 
Yale  College  was  founded  at  the  commencement  of  the  eighteenth 
century,  but  was  not  removed  to  New  Haven  until  seventeen  years 
after  its  foundation,  where  it  has  since  been  permanently  retained. 

There  is  much  in  the  general  polity  of  America  to  strike  the 
stranger  with  surprise,  but  nothing  more  calculated  to  excite  his 
admiration,  than  the  earnestness  with  which  education  is  there  uni- 
versally promoted  by  the  State,  as  a  matter  in  which  the  State  has 
the  most  deep  and  lasting  interest.  The  American  government  is 
one  which  shrinks  not  from  investigation,  but  covets  the  intelligent 
scrutiny  of  all  who  are  subjected  to  it.  It  is  founded  neither  on 
force  nor  fraud,  and  seeks  not,  therefore,  to  ally  itself  with  ignorance. 
Based  upon  the  principle  of  right  and  justice,  it  seeks  to  league 
itself  with  intelligence  and  virtue.  Its  roots  lie  deep  in  the  popular 
will,  and  in  the  popular  sympathies  is  the  chief  source  of  its  strength. 
It  is  its  great  object,  therefore,  to  have  that  will  controlled  and  those 
sympathies  regulated  by  an  enlightened  judgment.  It  thus  calls 
education  to  its  aid,  instead  of  treating  it  as  its  foe. 

Let  those,  who  will,  deny  that  the  tendencies  of  human  nature 
are  to  good,  this  is  the  broad  principle  upon  which  the  American 
system  of  government  rests.  There  is  a  great  difference  between 

VOL.  II.— 20 


230  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

believing  in  the  better  impulses  of  our  common  nature,  and  cherish- 
ing an  "idolatrous  enthusiasm"  for  humanity.  The  founders  of  the 
American  system  kept  the  brighter  side  of  human  nature  in  view 
when  they  organized  their  polity,  instead  of  acting  chiefly  with  a 
view  to  its  darker  traits.  They  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  propensity 
to  evil,  which  so  universally  finds  a  place  in  the  divided  heart  of 
man,  but  they  framed  their  system  more  with  a  view  to  the  encou- 
ragement of  virtue  than  the  repression  of  vice.  They  had  no  blind 
faith  in  the  supremacy  of  good  over  evil  in  the  moral  nature  of  man, 
but  they  acted  throughout  upon  the  convi€tion  that  man's  social  and 
political  condition  had  much  to  do,  although  not  everything,  with 
the  development  of  his  moral  character.  The  tendency  to  good  may 
be  cherished,  the  propensity  to  evil  checked,  by  the  position  which 
a  man  is  made  to  occupy  with  regard  to  his  fellows.  A  man's  moral 
nature  is  not  only  evidenced,  but  also  greatly  influenced  by  his  acts. 
Place  him  in  a  position  in  which  the  temptations  to  evil  are  more 
potent  than  the  stimulants  to  good,  and  if  he  give  way,  his  conse- 
quent familiarity  with  evil  acts  increases  the  propensity  to  them. 
But  surround  him  with  better  influences,  and  every  time  he  yields 
to  them  he  strengthens  the  higher  impulses  of  his  nature.  A  man's 
conduct  is  thus  not  only  the  result  of  his  moral  character,  but  it  also, 
to  some  extent,  influences  it.  And  what  chiefly  influences  his  con- 
duct? The  circumstances  in  which  he  is  placed.  The  great  object 
of  philanthropy  and  of  sound  policy  in  the  government  of  mankind 
should  therefore  be  to  mould  these  circumstances  so  as  to  stimulate 
to  good,  instead  of  being  provocative  to  evil.  This  was  the  great 
object  after  which  the  noble  race  of  men,  who  framed  the  American 
Constitution,  honestly  and  earnestly  strained.  They  repudiated  a 
system  founded  upon  the  principles  of  suspicion  and  resistance,  and 
adopted  one  based  upon  those  of  confidence  and  encouragement. 
Faith  in,  not  idolatry  of,  human  nature  was  thus  at  the  very  founda- 
tion of  the  edifice  which  they  reared  ;  and  they  took  care,  in  arrang- 
ing the  superstructure,  that  that  in  which  they  trusted,  the  tendency 
to  good — which,  however  it  may  bef  sometimes  smothered  in  the 
individual,  can  never  be  obliterated  from  the  heart  of  man — should 
have  every  opportunity  given  it  of  justifying  their  confidence.  The 
sympathies  of  ignorance  are  more  with  the  evil  than  with  the  better 
principle  of  our  composite  natures;  and  they  made  it  a  primary 
object  of  their  policy  to  assail  ignorance,  in  every  form  in  which  it 
presented  itself.  The  sympathies  of  intelligence,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  more  with  virtue  than  vice:  and  the  universal  promotion  of  efei- 
cation  was  made  one  of  the  main  features  of  their  governmental 
system.  They  thus  regarded  education  in  its  true  light,  not  merely 
as  something  which  should  not  be  neglected,  but  as  an  indispensable 
coadjutor  in  the  work  of  consolidating  and  promoting  their  scheme. 
They  had  not  only  cause  to  further  education,  but  they  had  every 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  231 

reason  to  dread  ignorance.  They  have  so  still,  and  the  institutions 
of  America  will  only  be  permanently  consolidated,  when  intelligence, 
in  a  high  state  of  development,  is  homogeneous  to  the  Union.  The 
American  government,  founded  upon  the  principle  of  mutual  confi- 
dence, thus  wisely  takes  care  that  education  shall  be  pnomoted,  as 
one  of  the  essential  conditions  to  the  realisation  of  its  hopes.  Its 
success  is  thus  identified  with  human  elevation — it  can  only  be  de- 
feated by  the  degradation  of  humanity. 

How  different  is  a  system  thus  conceived  from  that  propounded 
by  statesmen,  who  preach,  as  the  fundamental  element  of  good 
government,  a  distrust  of  the  moral  attributes  of  man  !  They  admit 
that  he  has  some  good  in  him,  but  insist  that  he  should  be  treated, 
both  socially  and  politically,  on  the  supposition  that  the  propensity 
to  evil  was  the  only  characteristic  of  his  nature.  Whether  it  be 
originally  his  chief  characteristic  or  not,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that 
it  may  be  artificially  made  so,  and  systems  of  government  founded 
on  deception,  hypocrisy,  and  selfishness,  can  never  be  made  the 
means  of  purifying  the  heart,  elevating  the  sentiments,  or  exalting 
the  intellect  of  mankind.  Thoroughly  to  improve  a  people,  you 
must,  as  in  the  case  of  an  individual,  appeal  to  their  generous  senti- 
ments. But  a  government  turns  its  back  upon  these,  which  shows, 
in  the  very  principle  of  its  being,  and  in  its  every  act,  that  it  deals 
with  the  people  on  the  footing  of  distrust.  It  is  not  by  the  repressive 
system  that  vice  can  be  most  effectually  eradicated.  It  is  by  pro- 
moting the  antagonist  principle  of  virtue  that  the  greatest  victory  is 
to  be  achieved  over  it.  Systems  chiefly,  if  not  exclusively,  framed 
for  the  suppression  of  vice,  are  not  the  best  calculated  for  the  pro- 
motion of  virtue. 

Again,  systems  prominently  embodying  the  principle  of  resistance, 
provoke  resistance.  The  result  is  a  chronic  antagonism  between 
the  government  and  the  governed,  whereas  harmony  between  the 
two  is  at  once  the  essence  and  the  symbol  of  good  government. 
The  principle  of  resistance  has  been  tried  and -found  wanting.  Men 
cannot  be  permanently  governed  through  force  .and  fear.  They  may 
be  so  through  the  affections,  and  this  without  idolizing  humanity. 
Force  and  fear  have  failed ;  and  those  who  relied  upon  them  blame 
humanity  for  their  failure.  'May  it  not  be  that  it  is  a  very  hopeful 
feature  in  humanity  that  they  have  not  succeeded?  Resistance  is 
still  preached  as  the  fundamental  element  of  good  government,  by 
one  who  affords  in  his  own  person  the  most  memorable  modern 
example  of  the  utter  fallacy  of  such  a  principle.  It  was  only  in 
1830,  whilst  a  spectator  of  the  revolution  of  that  year,  that  M.  Guizot 
really  learnt  what  were  the  essential  elements  of  human  society,  and 
the  indispensable  prerequisites  to  safe  and  efficient  government. 
After  having  imbibed  this  great  lesson,  he  was  for  eleven  years  a 
minister.  How  much  he  profited  by  it,  the  events  of  February  can 


232  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

attest.  These  events  are  the  best  illustration,  both  of  the  soundness 
of  his  judgment  and  the  correctness  of  his  system.  Either  he  read 
the  human  heart  aright  in  1830,  and  afterwards  governed  his  fellow- 
subjects  on  wrong  principles,  or  he  was  egregiously  at  fault  both  in 
reading  and  governing  them.  But  it  was  not  king  Louis  Philippe's 
system,  which  received  its  chief  manifestations  during  the  seven 
years  for  which  M.  Guizot  was  virtually  the  head  of  the  cabinet, 
that  was  faulty,  it  was  the  vile  human  heart.  There  was  nothing 
incompatible  with  the  dignity  and  stability  of  a  government  in  the 
broken  faith  pledged  at  Eu;  in  the  despicable  intrigue  of  the  Spanish 
marriages;  in  the  double  dealing  with  the  Sonderbund;  in  the 
coquetting  with  Colletti ;  in  the  evident  leaning  to  the  principle  of 
despotism,  typified  by  the  rupture  with  England,  and  the  growing 
alliance  with  the  absolutest  powers;  or  in  the  unequivocal  determi- 
nation to  check  the  progress  of  rational  liberty  in  France,  and  to 
suppress  every  noble  aspiration  in  which  she  indulged.  These  are 
the  leading  features  of  the  Guizot  administration.  Were  they  such 
as  to  recommend  it  to  an  ardent  people,  who  worshipped  at  least 
the  semblance  of  freedom,  if  they  did  not  rightly  appreciate  its 
meaning?  Let  this  be  its  commentary.  On  the  22d  of  February 
the  minister  was  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power,  the  dynasty  in  pos- 
session of  France.  A  few  days  afterwards,  and  Lamartine  was  in 
the  Hotel  de  Ville,  Louis  Philippe  at  Claremont,  and  M.  Guizot 
once  more  at  Ghent.  But  it  was  the  vile  human  heart  that  did  it 
all.  France  was  both  insensible  and  ungrateful.  So  insinuates  the 
fallen  minister  now. 

The  reader  will  pardon  this  digression.  But,  in  considering  the 
principles  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  the  American  system,  I 
could  not  avoid  contrasting  them  with  certain  views  as  to  the  proper 
elements  of  good  government,  which  have  recently  emanated  from  a 
distinguished  source. 

I  have  already  intimated  that  the  American  government,  instead 
of  seeking  to  fortify  itself  in  popular  ignorance,  and  to  make  society 
virtuous  by  simply  resisting  the  propensity  to  evil,  is  framed  with  a 
view  to  strengthen  and  encourage  the  tendencies  to  good — the  pos- 
session of  which,  to  some  extent,  even  his  greatest  detractors  cannot 
deny  to  man — and  allies  itself  with  education  as  its  most  potent  co- 
adjutor in  the  work.  It  has  already  been  seen  that  the  general 
government  is  but  a  part  of  what  is  understood  by  the  political  sys- 
tem of  America  ;  and  that  the  State  governments  form  its  main,  if 
not  its  most  interesting  feature.  In  speaking  of  the  close  alliance 
formed  between  the  American  system  and  general  education,  let  me 
be  understood  to  refer  to  the  system  in  its  local,  not  its  federal 
manifestation.  The  education  of  the  people  is  not  one  of  the  sub- 
jects, the  control  over  which  has  been  conceded  to  the  general 
government.  There  were  two  reasons  why  the  different  States  re- 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  233 

served  its  management  to  themselves.  The  first  was  the  difficulty 
of  procuring  a  general  fund  for  its  support,  without  investing  the 
general  government  with  some  power  of  local  taxation,  a  course 
which  would  have  been  at  war  with  some  of  the  fundamental  axioms 
of  the  whole  system.  The  other  was  the  impossibility  of  devising  a 
general  plan  of  education  for  a  people,  whose  political  being  was 
characterised  by  so  many  diversities  of  circumstances,  and  who  dif- 
fered so  essentially  from  each  other  in  some  of  their  institutions.  The 
States,  therefore,  prudently  reserved  the  management  of  the  whole 
subject  to  themselves.  The  cause  of  education  has  not  lost  by  this  ; 
the  States,  particularly  those  in  the  north,  running  with  each  other  a 
race  of  generous  emulation  in  their  separate  efforts  to  promote  it. 

In  a  country  in  which  the  Church  has  been  wholly  divorced  from 
the  State,  it  was  to  be  expected  that  education  would  be  divested  of 
the  pernicious  trammels  of  sectarian  influence.  The  Americans  have 
drawn  a  proper  distinction  between  secular  and  religious  instruction, 
confining  the  Church  to  its  own  duties,  and  leaving  the  schools  free 
in  the  execution  of  theirs.  They  have  not  fallen  into  the  ridiculous 
error  of  supposing  that  education  is  "Godless,"  when  it  does  not  em- 
brace theology.  Education  has  both  its  secular  and  its  religious 
elements.  As  men  cannot  agree  as  to  the  latter,  let  not  the  former, 
on  which  they  are  agreed,  be  prevented  from  expanding  by  unneces- 
sarily combining  them.  Cannot  a  mathematical  axiom  be  taught, 
without  incorporating  with  it  a  theological  dogma?  Is  it  necessary, 
in  order  to  rescue  this  branch  of  education  from  the  charge  of  god- 
lessness,  that  a  child  should  be  taught  that  it  is  with  God's  blessing 
that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  together  equal  to  two  right 
angles  ;  or  that  two  and  two,  Deo  volcntet  make  four,  otherwise  they 
might  have  made  five?  Suppose,  then,  that  we  had  schools  for 
teaching  arithmetic  and  mathematics  alone,  would  any  sane  man 
charge  them  with  being  godless,  because  they  confined  themselves 
to  the  teaching  of  such  simple  truths  as  that  two  and  two  make  four, 
and  that  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  are  together  equal  to  two  right 
angles  ?  And  what  holds  good  of  a  branch  of  secular  education, 
holds  good  of  it  in  its  entirety.  If  mathematics  can  be  taught  with- 
out theology,  so  can  reading  and  writing,  grammar  and  geography  ; 
in  short  every  department  of  secular  learning.  This  is  the  view 
which  the  Americans  have  generally  taken  of  the  subject,  and  they 
have  shaped  their  course  accordingly.  They  have  left  religion  to 
fortify  itself  exclusively  in  the  heart  of  man,  whilst  they  have  treated 
secular  education  as  a  matter  which  essentially  concerned  the  State. 
Either  the  Church  is  fit  for  the  performance  of  its  own  duties,  or  it 
is  not.  If  it  is  not,  it  is  high  time  that  it  were  remodelled;  if  it  is, 
there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  call  upon  the  school  to  undertake  a 
part  of  its  work.  The  school  might,  with  the  same  propriety,  call 
upon  the  Church  to  aid  it  in  the  work  of  secular  instruction.  They 

20* 


234  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

will  both  best  acquit  themselves  of  their  responsibilities,  when  they 
are  confined  exclusively  to  their  own  spheres.  In  America  they  are 
so,  and  with  the  happiest  results.  The  children  of  all  denominations 
meet  peaceably  together,  to  learn  the  elements  of  a  good  ordinary 
education.  Nobody  dreams  of  their  being  rendered  Godless  by  the 
process.  Their  parents  feel  assured  that,  for  their  religious  educa- 
tion, they  can  entrust  them  to  the  Church  and  the  Sunday-school. 

The  importance  which  the  American  people  attach  to  the  subject 
of  .general  education,  is  indicated  by  the  prominent  position  which 
they  assign  it,  amongst  those  matters  which  peculiarly  claim  the  at- 
tention and  supervision  of  the  State.  As  is  the  case  in  some  of  the 
States  of  the  continent,  in  most,  if  not  in  all,  of  the  States  of  the 
American  Union,  the  superintendence  of  education  is  made  a  sepa- 
rate and  distinct  department  of  State.  He  who  presides  over  this 
department  may  not  be  permitted  to.  appropriate  to  himself  so  high- 
sounding  a  title  as  Minister  of  Public  Instruction  ;  but  nevertheless, 
within  his  own  State  he  is  such  minister.  We  manage  things  differ- 
ently. We  have  no  separate  department  for  the  supervision  of  this 
all-important  subject.  We  have  the  Home  Department,  whose  chief 
business  it  is  to  war  with  vice,  and  to  preserve  the  public  peace 
against  those  who  would  be  disposed  to  break  it.  This  is  very  ne- 
cessary to  the  existence  of  society.  But  there  is  no  department  to 
carry  on  the  war  with  ignorance,  and  to  dispose  to  virtue  by  enlight- 
ening the  mind.  This  noble  object  is  almost  exclusively  entrusted 
to  a  Committtee  of  Privy  Council,  who  delegate  their  duties  to  a 
single  individual,  who,  however  responsible  he  may  be  to  his  em- 
ployers, is  not  directly  responsible  to  parliament.  It  is  quite  possible 
that  this  committee  may  answer  all  the  purposes  of  a  separate  depart- 
ment, but  it  is  not  probable  that  it  does  so.  The  spirit  in  which  all 
our  national  schemes  for  the  education  of  the  people  are  conceivedj 
is  evident  from  the  ,very  nature  of  the  superintendence  to  which  they 
are  subjected.  Education  is  regarded  by  our  rulers  as  a  subsidiary 
matter,  or  its  charge  would  -not  be  committed  to  a  species  of  irre- 
sponsible committee.  This  neglect  of,  or  apparent  contempt  for, 
education,  on  the  part  of  the  government,  has  a  pernicious  effect 
upon  multitudes  in  the  country,  who  only  permit  those  things  to  rank 
high  in  their  estimation  which  are  treated  by  government  with  dig- 
nity and  respect.  Let  the  government  once  elevate  education  to  its 
right  position^  as  one  of  the  primary  objects  of  State  solicitude,  and 
let  its  supervision  be  entrusted  to  parties  directly  responsible  to  par- 
liament, and  numbers  without,  who  are  now  indifferent  to  the  sub- 
ject, would  zealously  co-operate  in  its  promotion.  Let  this  be  done 
— let  the  superintendence  of  education  be  organized  into  a  distinct 
department  of  the  government,  and  we  should  not  much  longer  have 
to  blush  at  the  scandal  of  the  yearly  expense  of  education  in  this  great 
country  turning  up  as  a  paltry  item  in  the  miscellaneous  estimates. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  285 

Nothing  can  better  serve  to  illustrate  the  difference  of  spirit,  in 
which  our  educational  system  and  that  of  America  are  conceived  than 
the  yearly  outlay  by  the  State  in  both  cases,  in  the  way  of  its  pro- 
motion, as  compared  with  other  items  of  national  expenditure.  We 
pay  nearly  nine  millions  a-year  for  the  support  of  one  only  of  our 
military  establishments,  and  about  130,000/.  for  popular  education; 
whereas,  the  largest  item  in  the  annual  expenditure  of  several  of  the 
States  of  the  Union,  such  as  Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island,  is  for 
the  promotion  of  the  education  of  the  people. 

The  States  of  the  Union  differ  not  only  in  the  form  of  their  educa- 
tional schemes,  but  likewise  in  the  extent  to  which  they  have  pushed 
them.  It  is  in  the  northern  States  that  the  noblest  efforts  have  been 
made  for  the  spread  of  popular  instruction.  In  the  slave-holding 
States  such  schemes  as  have  been  adopted,  have  been  rendered  ap- 
plicable only  to  the  white  population.  But  with  this  solitary  exception, 
there  is  not  a  State  in  the  Union  that  has  not  done  something,  and 
most  of  them  a  very  great  deal,  for  the  promotion  of  popular  educa- 
tion. It  would  not  be  advisable  here  to  enter  into  the  details  of  their 
different  schemes,  but  those  of  one  or  two  States  may  be  briefly 
glanced  at  by  way  of  illustration. 

All  the  New  England  States  have  done  much  in  this  behalf.  That 
which  has  been  effected  by  Connecticut,  will  show  the  spirit  in  which 
the  great  work  has  been  taken  up  by  the  Americans  in  their  political 
capacity. 

The  population  of  this  State  does  not  exceed  that  of  the  city  of 
Glasgow.  It  has  a  permanent  school-fund,  amounting  to  about  two 
millions  of  dollars,  or  41(),666/.  sterling.  This  yields  an  annual 
revenue  of  about  120,000  dollars,  or  about  25,000/.  sterling.  The 
fund,  I  understand,  has  lately  increased,  the  revenue  which  it  yields 
being  now  about  2G,000/.  The  State  is  divided  into  upwards  of 
1,660  school  districts,  in  all  of  which  schools  are  in  operation.  In 
1847,  upwards  of  80,090  children  were  instructed  in  all  the  ele- 
ments of  a  good  ordinary  education  at  these  schools  ;  the  rate  per 
child,  at  which  they  were  taught  for  a  year,  being  I  dollar  and  45 
cents,  or  about  6s.  sterling.  In  addition  to  this,  there  are  in  the 
State  several  colleges,  and  upwards  of  130  academies  and  grammar- 
schools,  the  State  confining  its  operations  to  the  bringing  home  to 
every  citizen  a  good  elementary  education.  And  it  is  only  when 
the  State  as  a  State  undertakes  the  work,  that  it  can  be  done  in  the 
effectual  manner  in  which  it  has  been  achieved  in  Connecticut.  Our 
annual  State  expenditure  on  education  is  a  little  over  100,000/. 
Were  our  expenditure  in  this  respect  on  the  same  scale,  in  propor- 
tion to  our  population,  as  that  of  Connecticut,  instead  of  100,OUO/., 
it  would  be  2,28S,000/.,  or  nearly  twenty  times  as  great  as  it  is.  But, 
as  regards  the  provision  which  she  lias  thus  made  for  education,  Con- 
necticut stands  preeminent  even  in  America. 


236  THE  WESTERN    WORLD. 

The  State  of  New  York  has  also  set  a  noble  example,  in  this  re- 
spect, to  the  other  communities  of  the  world.  The  population  of  this 
State  is  under  three  milions.  It  is  divided  for  the  purposes  of  edu- 
cation into  school  districts,  which  constitute  the  lowest  municipal 
subdivisions  of  the  Slate.  The  number  of  these  districts  is  10,893! 
In  1843  schools  were  open  in  no  less  than  10,645  of  these.  The 
number  of  children  from  five  to  sixteen  years  old  in  these  districts 
was  601,766.  Of  these  no  less  than  571,130  were  attending  school. 
Upwards  of  half  a  million  of  dollars  was,  that  year,  paid  to  teachers 
by  the  State.  The  whole  amount  paid  by  the  State  for  education 
in  1846  was  456,970  dollars,  or  95,202/.  sterling;  and  this  for  the 
education  of  between  two  millions  and  a  half  and  three  millions  of 
people.  If  we  spent  at  the  same  rate  for  the  same  purpose,  our 
yearly  expenditure  for  education  would  be  1,142,424/.,  or  very 
nearly  ten  times  as  great  as  it  is.  It  is  quite  true  that  enormous 
sums  are  voluntarily  appropriated  in  this  country  to  the  purposes  of 
education.  But  it  would  be  erroneous  to  suppose  that  this  is  not 
also  the  case  in  America,  where  such  large  sums  are  annually  ex- 
pended upon  education  by  the  State.  In  addition  to  the  common 
schools,  of  which  all  who  choose  may  avail  themselves,  and  in  which 
a  sound  elementary  education  alone  is  taught,  there  are  in  New 
York  nearly  600  academies  and  grammar-schools,  which  do  not 
enter  into  the  State  system  at  all,  and  at  which  the  higher  branches 
of  education  are  taught.  New  York  also  abounds  in  seminaries  of 
the  highest  grade,  chief  amongst  which  ^re  Columbia  College  and 
New  York  University,  both  in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  Union 
College  in  the  city  of  Schenectady. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  that  because  the  common  and  primary 
schools  have  been  rescued  from  sectarian  influence,  the  different 
sects  in  the  country  have  no  educational  institutions  of  their  own. 
They  have  none  designed  to  supersede  the  primary  schools,  such  as 
they  possess  being  institutions  to  which  youth  resort  only  when  they 
leave  these  schools.  Although  not  all,  most  of  the  colleges  in  Ame- 
rica are  of  this  description.  Of  109  colleges  in  the  United  States,  10 
are  institutions  belonging  to  the  Baptists,  7  are  Episcopalian,  13  are 
Methodist,  and  several  Catholic.  The  great  bulk  of  them  seem  to  be 
divided  between  theCongregationalists  and  Presbyterians,  the  former 
possessing  most  of  those  which  are  in  New  England,  and  the  latter 
the  majority  of  such  as  are  scattered  throughout  the  rest  of  the  coun- 
try. There  are  also  35  theological  schools  in  the  country,  of  which 
6  are  Congregationalist,  11  Presbytarian,  3  Episcopal,  and  5  Baptist. 
Law  and  medical  schools  are  likewise  numerous  throughout  the 
Union. 

The  number  and  magnitude  of  the  seminaries  existing  in  the 
State  of  New  York  for  the  education  of  young  ladies  form  a  striking 
feature  in  the  educational  system  of  that  State.  Most  of  the  pupils 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  237 

at  these  establishments  are  boarders,  and  their  education  generally 
takes  a  much  wider  scope  than  does  that  of  young  ladies  in  this 
country.  Their  scientific  acquirements  are,  however,  attained  at  the 
expense  of  their  accomplishments. 

The  results  of  the  general  attention  to  popular  education  charac- 
teristic of  American  polity,  are  as  cheering  as  they  are  obvious.  It 
divorces  man  from  the  dominion  of  his  mere  instincts,  in  a  country, 
the  institutions  of  which  rely  for  their  maintenance  upon  the  enlight- 
ened judgments  of  the  public.  Events  may  occur  which  may  catch 
the  multitude  in  an  unthinking  humour,  and  carry  it  away  with 
them,  or  which  may  blind  the  judgment  by  flattering  appeals  to  the 
passions  of  the  populace;  but  on  the  great  majority  of  questions  of 
a  social  and  political  import  which  arise,  every  citizen  is  found  to 
entertain  an  intelligent  opinion.  He  may  be  wrong  in  his  views, 
but  he  can  always  offer  you  reasons  for  them.  In  this,  how  favour- 
ably does  he  contrast  with  the  unreasoning  and  ignorant  multitudes 
in  other  lands!  All  Americans  read  and  write.  Such  childern  and 
adults  as  are  found  incapable  of  doing  either,  are  emigrants  from 
some  of  the  less  favoured  regions  of  the  older  hemisphere,  where 
popular  ignorance  is  but  too  frequently  regarded  as  the  best  guarantee 
for  the  stability  of  political  systems. 

In  a  country  of  whose  people  it  may  be  said  that  they  all  read, 
it  is  but  natural  that  we  should  look  for  a  national  literature.  For 
this  we  do  not  look  in  vain  to  America.  Like  its  commerce,  its  lite- 
rature is  as  yet  comparatively  young,  but  like  it  in  its  development  it 
has  been  rapid  and  progressive.  There  is  scarcely  a  department  of 
literature  in  which  the  Americans  do  not  now  occupy  a  respectable 
and  prominent  position.  The  branch  in  which  they  have  least  ex- 
celled, perhaps,  is  the  drama.  In  poetry  they  have  been  prolific,  not- 
withstanding the  practical  nature  of  their  pursuits  as  a  people.  A 
great  deal  of  what  they  have  produced  in  this  form  is  valueless,  to 
say  nothing  else  ;  but  some  of  their  poets  have  deservedly  a  repu- 
tation extending  far  beyond  their  country's  bounds.-  Of  the  novels  of 
Cooper  it  is  not  necessary  here  to  speak.  There  is  an  originality  in 
the.  produtions  of  Pierpoint,  arid  a  vigour  in  those  of  Halleck,  a 
truthfulness  as  well  as  force  in  the  verses  of  Duna,  and  a  soothing 
influence  in  the  sweet  strains  of  Bryant,  which  recommend  them  to 
all  speaking  or  reading  the  glorious  language  in  which  they  are  writ- 
ten. In  the  bright  galaxy  of  historical  authors,  no  names  stand  higher 
than  do  those  of  some  of  the  American  historians.  The  fame  of 
Prescott  has  already  spread,  even  beyond  the  wide  limits  of  Anglo- 
Saxon-dom.  The  name  of  Bancroft  is  as  widely  and  as  favourably 
known  ;  his  history  of  the  United  States,  of  which  only  a  portion  has 
as  yet  appeared,  combining  the  interest  of  a  romance  with  fidelity 
to  sober  realities.  In  biographical  literature,  and  in  essays  of  a 
sketchy  character,  none  can  excell  Washington  Irving ;  whilst  in 


238  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

descriptive  writing,  and  in  detailing  "  incidents  of  travel,"  Stevens 
has  certainly  no  superior.  Many  medical  works  of  great  eminence 
are  from  American  pens;  and  there  is  not  a  good  law  library  in  this 
country  but  is  indebted  for  some  of  its  most  valuable  treasures  to  the 
jurisprudential  literature  of  America.  Prominent  amongst  the  names 
which  English  as  well  as  American  lawyers  revere,  is  that  of  Mr. 
Justice  Story.  Nor  have  American  theologians  been  idle,  whilst 
jurists  and  physicians  have  been  busy  with  their  pens.  Dwight,  Ed- 
wards, and  Barnes,  are  known  elsewhere  as  well  as  in  America  as 
eminent  controversialists.  Nor  is  the  country  behind  in  regard  to 
science,  for  not  only  have  many  valuable  scientific  discoveries  been 
made  and  problems  solved  in  it,  but  many  useful  works  of  a  scien- 
tific character  have  appeared,  to  say  nothing  of  the  periodicals  which 
are  conducted  in  the  interest  of  science.  The  important  science  of 
Economy  has  also  been  illustrated  and  promoted  by  the  works  of 
American  economists,  whilst  Americans  have  likewise  contributed 
their  share  to  the  political  and  philological  literature  of  the  world. 
The  American-  brain  is  as  active  as  American  hands  are  busy.  It 
has  already  produced  a  literature  far  above  mediocrity,  a  literature 
which  will  be  greatly  extended,  diversified,  and  enriched,  as  by  the 
greater  spread  of  wealth  the  classes  who  can  most  conveniently  de- 
vote themselves  to  its  pursuit  increase. 

It  is  but  natural  that  a  government  which  does  so  much  for  the 
promotion  of  education  should  seek  to  make  an  ally  of  literature. 
Literary  men  in  America,  like  literary  men  in  France,  have  the 
avenue  of  political  perferment  much  more  accessible  to  them  than 
literary  men  in  England.  There  is  in  this  respect,  however,  this  dif- 
ference between  France  and  America,  that  whilst  in  the  former  the 
literary  man  is  simply  left  to  push  his  way  to  place  ;  in  the  latter>  he 
is  very  often  sought  for  and  dragged  into  it.  In  France  he  must 
combine  the  violent  partisan  with  the  literateur  ere  he  realises  a 
position  in  connexion  with  his  government.  In  America  the  literateur 
is  frequently  converted  into  the  politician,  without  ever  having  been 
the  mere  partisan.  It  was  thus  that  Paulding  was  placed  by  Presi- 
dent Van  Buren  at  the  head  of  the  navy  department,  that  Wash- 
ington Irving  was  sent  as  minister  to  Spain,  and  Stevens  despatched 
on  a  political  mission  to  Central  America.  It  was  chiefly  on  account 
of  his  literary  qualities  that  Mr.  Everett  was  sent  as  minister  to 
London,  and  that  Mr.  Bancroft  was  also  sent  thither  by  the  cabinet 
of  Mr.  Polk.  Like  Paulding,  this  last-mentioned  gentleman  was  for 
some  time  at  the  head  of  a  department  in  Washington,  previously 
to  his  undertaking  the  embassy  to  London.  The  historian  exhibited 
administrative  capacity,  as  soon  as  he  was  called  upon  to  exercise 
it;  whilst  in  this  country  he  has  earned  for  himself  the  character  of 
an  accomplished  diplomatist,  a  finished  scholar,  and  a  perfect  gentle- 
man. But  Mr.  Bancroft's  future  fame  will  not  depend  upon  his 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  239 

proved  aptitude  for  administration  or  diplomacy.  As  in  Mr.  Ma- 
caulay's  case,  so  with  him,  the  historian  will  eclipse  the  politician. 

As  is  the  case  in  this  country,  the  periodical  and  newspaper  press 
occupies  a  very  prominent  position  in  the  literature  of  America. 
Periodicals,  that  is  to  say,  quarterlies,  monthlies,  and  serials  of  all 
kinds,  issue  from  it  in  abundance  ;  the  reviews  and  magazines  being 
chiefly  confined  to  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  New  York. 

In  connexion  with  American  newspapers,  the  first  thing  that 
strikes  the  stranger  is  their  extraordinary  number.  They  meet  him 
at  every  turn,  of  all  sizes,  shapes,  characters,  prices,  and  appellations. 
On  board  the  steamer  and  on  the  rail,  in  the  counting-house  and  the 
hotel,  in  the  street  and  in  the  private  dwelling,  in  the  crowded 
thoroughfare  and  in  the  remotest  rural  district,  he  is  ever  sure  of 
finding  the  newspaper.  There  are  daily,  tri-weekly,  bi-weekly,  and 
weekly  papers,  as  with  us  ;  papers  purely  political,  others  of  a  literary 
cast,  and  others  again  simply  professional ;  whilst  there  are  many  of 
no  particular  character,  combining  everything  in  their  columns.  The 
proportion  of  daily  papers  is  enormous.  Almost  every  town,  down 
to  communities  of  two  thousand  in  number,  has  not  only  one  but 
several  daily  papers.  The  city  of  Rochester,  for  instance,  with  a 
population  a  little  exceeding  30,000,  has  five ;  to  say  nothing  of  the 
bi-weekly  and  weekly  papers  which  are  issued  in  it.  I  was  at  first, 
with  nothing  but  my  European  experience  to  guide  me,  at  a  loss  to 
understand  how  they  were  all  supported.  But  I  found  that,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  extent  of  their  advertising  patronage,  which  is  very  great, 
advertisements  being  free  of  duty  in  America,  the  number  of  their 
readers  is  almost  co-extensive  with  that  of  the  population.  There 
are  few  in  America  who  do  not  both  take  in  and  read  their  news- 
papers. English  newspapers  are,  in  the  first  place,  read  but  by  a  few  ; 
and  in  the  next,  the  number  of  papers  read  is  small  in  comparison 
with  the  number  that  read  them.  The  chief  circulation  of  English 
papers  is  in  exchanges,  news-rooms,  reading-rooms,  hotels,  taverns, 
coffee-houses,  and  pot-houses,  but  a  fraction  of  those  who  read  them 
taking  them  in  for  themselves.  Their  high  price  may  have  much  to 
do  with  this.  In  America  the  case  is  totally  different.  Not  only 
are  places  of  public  resort  well  supplied  with  the  journals  of  the  day, 
but  most  families  take  in  their  paper,  or  papers.  With  us  it  is  chiefly 
the  inhabitants  of  towns  that  read  the  journals  ;  in  America  the  vast 
body  of  the  rural  population  peruse  them  with  the  same  avidity  and 
universality  as  do  their  brethren  in  the  towns.  Were  it  otherwise  it 
would  be  impossible  for  the  number,  which  now  appear,  to  exist.  But 
as  newspapers  are  multiplied,  so  are  readers,  every  one  reading  and 
most  subscribing  to  a  newspaper.  Many  families,  even  in  the  rural 
districts,  are  not  contented  with  one,  but  must  have  two  or  more, 
adding  some  metropolitan  paper  to  the  one  or  two  local  papers  to 
which  they  subscribe. 


240  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

The  character  of  the  American  press  is,  in  many  points  of  view, 
not  as  elevated  as  it  might  be.  But  in  this  respect  it  is  rapidly  im- 
proving, and,  as  compared  to  what  it  was  some  years  ago,  there  is 
now  a  marked  change  in  it  for  the  better.  There  may  be  as  much 
violence,  but  there  is  less  scurrility  than  heretofore  in  its  columns  ; 
it  is  also  rapidly  improving  in  a  literary  point  of  view.  There  are 
several  journals  in  some  of  the  great  metropolitan  cities,  which, 
whether  we  take  into  account  the  ability  with  which  they  are  con- 
ducted, or  the  dignity  of  attitude  which  they  assume,  as  favourably 
contrast  with  the  great  bulk  of  the  American  press,  as  do  the  best 
conducted  journals  of  this  country. 

The  American  papers,  particularly  in  the  larger  commercial  towns, 
are  conducted  with  great  spirit;  but  they  spend  far  more  money  in 
the  pursuit  of  news  than  they  do  in  the  employment  of  talent.  Their 
great  object  is  to  anticipate  each  other  in  the  publication  of  news. 
For  this  purpose  they  will  either  individually,  or  sometimes  in  com- 
bination, go  to  great  trouble  and  expense.  During  the  progress  of 
the  Oregon  controversy  a  few  of  th3  papers  in  New  York  and  Phila- 
delphia clubbed  together  to  express  the  European  news  from  Halifax 
to  New  York,  by  horse  express  and  steamer,  a  distance  of  700  miles, 
and  this  too  in  winter.  The  most  striking  instance  of  competition 
between  them  that  ever  came  under  rny  observation  was  the  follow- 
ing. For  some  time  after  the  breaking  out  of  the  Mexican  war,  the 
anxiety  to  obtain  news  from  the  South  was  intense.  There  was 
then  no  electric  telegraph  south  of  Washington,  the  news  had  there- 
fore to  come  to  that  city  from  New  Orleans  through  the  ordinary 
mail  channels.  The  strife  was  between  several  Baltimore  papers  for 
the  first  use  of  the  telegraph^  between  Washington  and  Baltimore. 
The  telegraph  office  was  close  to  the  Post-office,  both  being  more 
than  a  mile  from  the  wharf,  at  which  the  mail-steamer,  after  having 
ascended  the  Potomac  from  the  Aquia  Creek,  stopped,  and  from 
which  the  mail-bags  had  to  be  carried  in  a  wagon  to  the  Post-office. 
The  plan  adopted  by  the  papers  to  anticipate  each  other  was  this. 
Each  had  an  agent  on  board  the  steamer,  whose  duty  it  was,  as  she 
was  ascending  the  river,  to  obtain  all  the  information  that  was  new, 
and  put  it  in  a  succinct  form  for  transmission  by  telegraph,  the  moment 
it  reached  Washington.  Having  done  so,  lie  tied  the  manuscript  to 
a  short  heavy  stick,  which  he  threw  ashore  as  the  boat  was  making 
the  wharf.  On  shore  each  paper  had  two  other  agents,  one  a  boy 
mounted  on  horseback,  and  the  other  a  man  on  foot,  ready  to  catch 
the  stick  to  which  the  manuscript  was  attached  the  moment  it  reached 
the  ground.  As  soon  as  he  got  hold  of  it  he  handed  it  to  the  boy 
on  horseback,  who  immediately  set  off  with  it  at  full  gallop  for  the 
telegraph  office.  There  were  frequently  five  or  six  thus  scrambling 
for  precedence,  and  as  they  sometimes  all  got  a  good  start,  the  race 
was  a  very  exciting  one.  Crowds  gathered  every  evening  around  the 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  241 

Post-office  and  Telegraph-office,  both  to  learn  the  news,  and  witness 
the  result  of  the  race.  The  first  in,  secured  the  telegraph,  arid  in  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  afterwards  the  news  was  known  at  Baltimore, 
forty  miles  off,  and  frequently  before  the  mail  was  delivered,  and  it 
was  known  even  at  Washington  itself.  On  an  important  occasion 
one  of  the  agents  alluded  to  as  being  on  board,  beat  his  competitors 
by  an  expert  manoeuvre.  He  managed,  unperceived,  to  take  a  bow 
on  board  with  him,  with  which,  on  the  arrival  of  the  boat,  he  shot 
his  manuscript  ashore,  attached  to  an  arrow,  long  before  his  rivals 
could  throw-the  sticks  ashore  to  which  their's  was  tied.  Next  even- 
ing, however,  when  still  more  important  news  was  expected,  and 
arrived,  he  was  in  turn  outwitted.  On  her  way  up  the  boat  touches 
at  Alexandria,  on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  to  leave  the  bags  directed 
to  that  town,  and  take  others  from  it.  On  this  occasion  one  of  the 
newspapers  had  a  relay  of  horses  between  Washington  and  Alexan- 
dria, the  rider  receiving  the  news  from  the  agent  on  board  at  the 
latter  place,  and  gallopping  off  with  it  to  the  capital.  The  bow  was 
then  of  no  use,  for  by  the  time  the  news-laden  arrow  was  shot  ashore, 
the  intelligence  designed  for  the  rival  paper  was  being  telegraphed 
to  Baltimore.  It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  American  press  partakes 
of  that  "  go-aheadism"  which  characterises  the  pursuit  of  business  in 
so  many  of  its  other  departments  in  America. 

A  people  may  very  generally  be  able  to  read,  and  yet  the  means 
of  intellectual  gratification  may  be  placed  beyond  their  reach. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  it  is  greatly  owing  to  their  cheap- 
ness that  American  newspapers  are  so  universally  perused.  This 
cheapness  arises  partly  from  competition,  partly  from  the  little 
expense  at  which  newspapers  are  got  up,  and  partly  from  the  absence 
of  causes  tending  artificially  to  enhance  their  price.  But  there  is  no 
little  misconception  in  this  country  as  to  the  cheapness  of  American 
newspapers.  The  American  people  have  taken  care  that  no  excise 
or  other  duties  should  exist,  which  might  enhance  the  price  of 
literature,  in  any  form  in  which  it  might  appear.  America  is  thus, 
undoubtedly,  the  land  of  cheap  literature;  but,  in  connexion  with 
the  newspaper  press,  the  mistake  made  is  in  supposing  that  English 
journals  are  exceedingly  high-priced,  as  compared  with  those  of 
America.  I  shall  show  that,  not  only  is  this  not  the  case,  but  that 
independently  of  stamp  and  excise  duties,  the  first-class  papers  of 
this  country  are  in  reality  cheaper  than  the  first-class  papers  in 
America..  It  is  true  that  a  large  proportion  of  American  newspa- 
pers are  sold  at  the  low  rate  of  two  cents,  and  some  at  one  cent  a 
copy,  but  it  would  be  unfair  to  institute  anything  like  a  comparison 
between  them  and  the  daily  press  of  this  country. 

Taking  the  first  class  papers  of  New  York,  such  as  the  Courier 
and  Jnquirer,  the  Journal  of  Commerce,  the  Commercial  Advertiser, 
the  New  York  American,  &c.  we  find  them  sell  at  six  cents  per 

VOL.  H.— 21 


242  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

copy.  This  is  about  threepence-halfpenny  of  our  money.  It  is 
obvious,  therefore,  that  if  they  had  a  penny  to  pay  by  way  of  stamp 
duty  upon  each  number,  and  about  a  halfpenny  more  in  the  shape 
of  excise  duty  upon  paper,  their  cost  would  be  Jivcpcnce,  which  is 
the  price  of  our  daily  papers.  So  far  they  appear  to  be  upon  an 
equality.  But  when  we  take  into  account  the  enormous  expense  at 
which  a  paper  in  London  is  conducted ;  the  cost  of  its  parliamentary 
corps,  its  staff  of  editors,  and  its  legion  of  foreign  correspondents ; 
and  consider  also  that,  with  one  exception,  the  advertising  patronage 
of  our  daily  papers  (thanks  to  the  advertisement  duty,)  is  far  less 
than  that  of  the  American  journals,  we  see  that  a  London  paper 
with  stamp  and  excise  duty  off  it,  and  selling  at  the  same  price  as 
an  American,  would,  in  reality, considering  the  expensive  appliances 
brought  to  bear  upon  it,  be  much  cheaper  than  the  transatlantic 
journal.  But  1  have  not  yet  done  with  the  points  in  the  comparison 
favourable  to  the  English  press  in  point  of  price.  Whilst  the 
American  papers,  had  they  the  same  burdens  to  bear  as  the  English 
have,  would  sell  at  fivepence,  the  actual  selling  price  of  the  English 
paper  is  fuurpence.  In  other  words,  the  selling  price,  minus  the 
stamp  and  excise  duties,  is  twopence-halfpenny,  or  one  penny  lower 
than  the  American  paper,  which  is  produced  at  one-half  the  expense, 
so  far  as  all  its  literary  departments  are  concerned.  It  is  true  that 
to  the  public  the  price  of  a  London  paper  is  fivepence,  but  it  is  the 
newsvender,  not  the  newspaper  that  pockets  the  difference.  Now 
the  newsvending  system  in  America  has  made  little  or  no  progress, 
so  that  a  paper  selling  there  at  threepence-halfpenny,  enables  its 
proprietors  to  pocket  the  whole  profits  upon  the  sale,  instead  of 
sharing  them,  as  here,  with  parties  intermediate  between  them  and 
the  public.  The  true  state  of  the  case,  therefore,  between  the  two 
papers  is  this,  that  whilst  a  first-class  American  paper  sells  for  three- 
pence-halfpenny, a  , London  paper  which  is  produced  at  infinitely 
greater  expense,  and  has  a  smaller  advertising  patronage,  and  which 
is  at  the  same  time  burdened  with  stamp  and  excise  duties  to  the 
extent  of  nearly  a  penny-halfpenny  per  copy,  sells  at  fouipence. 
Great,  therefore,  as  is  the  difference  of  cost  in  every  respect  at 
which  they  are  produced,  that  in  their  selling  price  is  but  one  half- 
penny. The  difference  to  the  public,  but  including  the  newsvend- 
er's  profit,  is  three-halfpence. 

An  English,  is  thus  comparatively  cheaper  than  an  American 
first-class  newspaper.  It  is  a  pity  that  by  the  abolition  of  those 
duties  which  artificially  enhance  their  price,  English  journals  were 
not  nominally  as  cheap  to  the  public  as  are  American.  From  mak- 
ing them  so,  society  would  reap  every  advantage.  Let  it  be  borne 
in  mind  that  there  is  a  cheap  press  in  this  country,  a  very  cheap 
press,  the  issues  of  which  seldom  meet  the  eye  of  the  so-called 
respectable  classes,  but  which  are  daily  diffusing  their  intellectual 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  243 

and  moral  poison  amongst  the  lower  orders.  And  what  have  we  to 
counteract  this  great,  though  but  partially  appreciated  evil]  The 
bane  is  cheap,  the  antidote  is  dear.  The  bane  works,  therefore, 
without  check.  We  cleanse  our  putrid  sewers  by  directing  through 
them  currents  of  fresh  water.  Why  not  bring  similar  purifying 
influences  to  bear  upon  the  daily  receptacles  of  moral  filth.  We 
are  doing  all  we  can  by  the  erection  of  baths  and  wash-houses  to 
superinduce  amongst  the  people  a  cleanly  habit  of  body,  by  cheapen- 
ing the  processes  by  which  alone,  in  the  midst  of  a  large  commu- 
nity, it  is  to  be  attained.  But  we  take  no  efficient  steps  to  secure 
for  the  lower  orders  a  wholesome  habit  of  mind.  We  make  war 
with  physical  disease,  but  leave  moral  pestilence  to  do  its  deadly 
work.  The  cheap  press,  with  all  its  pestiferous  influences,  is  the 
poor  man's  intellectual  aliment,  whilst  the  respectable  and  high- 
priced  press  is  the  rich  man's  luxury.  It  is  essential  to  the  well- 
being  of  society  that  the  latter  should  circulate  where  the  former 
circulates.  It  is  essential,  therefore,  to  the  well-being  of  society 
that  the  respectable  press  should  be  made  as  cheap  as  possible. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

RELIGION    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES. 

Separation  of  the  Church  from  the  State. — Effects  of  this  upon  both  the  Church 
and  the  State. — Voluntaryism  in  America. — Difference  between  Voluntaryism 
there  and  Dissent  in  this  country — Sect  in  America. — Proportion  in  point  of 
numbers  and  influence  of  the  different  Protestant  Sects. — The  Roman  Catho- 
lics.— Far-seeing  Policy  of  the  Church  of  Rome  in  America. — Revivals.— 
Independence  of  the  American  Clergy. — Zeal  of  some  of  the  American 
Churches. — Attention  paid  to  Strangers  in  American  Churches. — Church 
Music. — The  Organ. — Sunday  Schools. — Conclusion. 

WHILST  education  is  universally  promoted  in  America  by  the 
State,  as  a  matter  in  which  the  State  is  equally  interested  with  the 
individual,  religion  is  left  to  itself,  not  as  a  matter  in  which  the 
State  has  no  interest,  bu.t  as  being  of  such  high  individual  concern, 
that  it  is  thought  better  for  the  State  to  keep  aloof  and  leave  it  to  the 
care  of  the  individual.  Moreover,  the  experience  of  other  nations 
had  taught  the  Americans,  ere  they  framed  their  constitution,  that 
religion  and  politics  were  not  the  most  compatible  of  elements,  and 


244  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

that  political  systems  bad  the  best  chance  of  working  smoothly  to- 
wards their  object,  when  least  encumbered  by  alliances  with  the 
church.  If  there  was  one  thing  on  which,  more  than  another,  they 
were  agreed,  in  preparing  a  political  frame-work  for  the  Union,  it 
was  in  the  propriety  and  necessity,  if  they  would  not  mar  their  own 
work,  of  divorcing  the  State  from  the  Church.  The  ceremony  of 
separation  may  be  delayed  in  countries  in  which  the  connexion 
exists,  long  after  the  necessity  for  it  is  felt  and  its  propriety  acknow- 
ledged, from  the  difficulty  which  is  ever  in  the- way  of  breaking  up 
old  ties  and  associations.  It  is  thus  that  the  alliance  between 
Church  and  State  in  England  is  likely,  for  some  time,  to  outlive 
opinion  in  its  favour.  Were  we  forming  our  political  system  anew, 
there  is  no  doubt  but  that  many  who  are  now  Church  and  State  men 
from  circumstances,  would  be  anti-Church  and  State  men  on  prin- 
ciple. The  connexion  in  England  now  depends  for  its  continuance 
more  upon  the  conservative  feelin'g  which  instinctively  rallies  round 
an  existing  institution,  no  matter  how  unnecessary  soever  it  may  be, 
or  how  ill-adapted  to  the  circumstances  of  the  time,  than  upon  any 
very  prevalent  conviction  of  its  being  beneficial  to  religion  or  ad- 
vantageous to  the  State.  The  Americans  were  fortunate  in  de- 
termining and  arranging  their  system,  in  having  a  clear  field  before 
them.  In  settling  it,  they  were  at  liberty  to  base  it  upon  their  con- 
victions untrammelled  by  inconvenient  pre-existing  arrangements. 
They,  therefore,  wisely  determined  to  leave  out  of  their  plan,  a  fea- 
ture, which,  as  it  seemed  to  them,  had  added  neither  strength  nor 
harmony  to  the  political  system  of  others.  They  not  only  divorced 
the  State  from  the  Church,  in  a  strictly  political  sense,  but,  in  so 
doing,  refused  to  allow  the  Church  a  separate  maintenance.  Her 
empire  they  regarded  as  the  heart  of  man,  and  if  she  could  not 
establish  herself  there,  they  would  not  sustain  her  in  a  false  position. 
Thus,  whilst  we  b61ster  up  the  Church  and  leave  education  to  take 
care  of  itself,  they  promote  education  as  a  people,  and  leave  religion 
to  its  own  elevated  sway  over  the  individual.  Thus  far  they  come 
in  aid  of  Christianity — that  in  educating  the  people,  they  prepare 
the  public  mind  for  the  more  ready  reception  of  its  lofty  inculca- 
tions and  sublime  truths.  But  they  go  no  further.  The  social  duties 
which  man  owes  to  man,  the  State  will  enforce.  But  if  the  people 
forget  their  duties  to  God  and  to  themselves,  it  is  God  that  must 
deal  with  them,  and  not  the  State.  To  make  religion  in  any  degree 
a  matter  of  treaties,  protocols,  and  statutes,  is  to  detract  from  its 
high  moral  dignity — to  make  it  a  matter  of  State  convenience,  is  to 
abase  it. 

There  is  no  principle  more  freely  admitted,  both  practically  and 
theoretically,  in  America,  than  the  right  of  every  man  to  think  for 
himself  on  all  matters  connected  with  religion.  The  side  from  which 
they  view  the  matter,  is  not  that  the  admission  of  this  principle  is  a 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  245 

concession  made  by  each  to  all,  and  by  all  to  each,  but  that  the 
denial  of  it  would  be  an  indefensible  invasion  of  one  of  the  highest 
rights  of  the  individual,  a  right  superior  and  antecedent  to  all  social 
and  political  arrangements.  It  is  thus  that  the  insulting  term  "  tolera- 
tion" is  but  seldom  heard  in  America  in  connexion  with  the  religious 
system  of  the  country.  To  say  that  one  tolerates  another's  creed, 
implies  some  right  to  disallow  it,  a  right  that  happens  to  be  suspended 
or  in  abeyance  for  the  time  being.  The  only  mode  in  which 
the  Americans  manifest  any  intolerance  in  reference  to  religion  is, 
that  they  will  not  tolerate  that  the  independence  of  the  individual 
should,  in  any  degree,  be  called  in  question  in  connexion  with  it. 
They  will  therefore  tolerate  no  political  disabilities  whatever  to 
attach  to  a  man  on  account  of  his  religious  belief.  In  their 
individual  capacity,  they  seek  not  to  coerce  each  other's  opinions ; 
in  their  social  and  political  capacity,  they  regard  each  other  as 
citizens,  arid  simply  as  such.  If  a  man  performs  the  duties,  and 
bears  the  burdens  of  a  citizen,  they  do  not  inquire  into  his  views 
upon  the  Trinity,  or  his  notions  of  the  Immaculate  Conception. 

This  state  of  things  will  give  rise,  in  the  reader's  mind,  to  two 
questions — What  does  the  State  gain  by  it,  and  what  is  its  effect 
upon  the  interests  of  religion  ?  The  Stale  must  be  a  gainer  by  the 
removal  of  a  prolific  cause  of  discord  and  bitterness  of  feel- 
ing. In  addition  to  this,  the  Union  has  the  exalted  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  it  has  washed  its  hands,  in  its  political  capacity,  of 
everything  savouring  of  religious  persecution,  whilst  the  Americans, 
as  a  people,  are  not  liable  to  the  scandal  of  seeking  per  force  to  save 
one  man  through  the  medium  of  another's  views.  Its  effect  upon 
the  interests  of  religion  will  be  seen  from  what  follows. 

Well  may  the  nations  of  the  world  fix  their  eyes  anxiously  on 
America,  for  it  is  the  scene,  not  only  of  a  great  political,  but  also  of 
a  great  religious  experiment.  The  problem  which  it  is  working  out 
involves  political  liberty  in  connexion  with  society,  and  the 
voluntary  principle  in  connexion  with  religion.  For  the  first 
time  since  its  junction  with  the  State,  has  Christianity  been  thrown 
upon  its  own  imperishable  resources,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  people. 
And  has  it  suffered  from  its  novel  position?  Who  accuses  the 
Americans  of  being  an  irreligious  people?  Nay,  rather,  who  can 
deny  to  them,  as  a  people,  a  preeminence  in  religious  fervour  and 
devotion?  There  are  many  who  regard  religion  as  very  much  a 
matter  of  climate,  and  believe  that  it  is  more  likely  to  find  a  welcome 
in  the  reflective  minds  and  comparatively  gloomy  imaginations  of 
the  inhabitants  of  the  North,  than  in  the  quicker  wits  and  more  lively 
fancies  of  the  denizens  of  the  South.  Whatever  be  its  cause,  the 
further  north  we  go  in  our  own  country,  the  more  do  we  find  the 
people  imbued  with  the  religious  sentiment,  and  the  more  universally 
do  we  find  them  submitting  to  the  dominion  of  religion.  It  is 

21* 


246  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

precisely  so  in  the  United  States.  The  North,  as  it  is  the  more 
energetic,  is  also  the  more  religious  section  of  the  Confederacy, 
there  being  as  great  a  difference,  in  connexion  with  religion  between 
the  New  Yorker  and  the  Carolinian,  as  between  the  rigid  and  morose 
Presbyterian  of  Glasgow  and  the  more  cheerful  Churchman  of  Lon- 
don. To  whatever  extent  religion  may  have  laid  hold  of  the  public 
mind,  in  this  or  in  that  section  of  it,  the  voluntary  principle  is 
ubiquitous  throughout  the  Union.  If  in  the  North  the  obligations 
of  religion  are  extensively, so  are  they  voluntarily  observed;  if  in  the 
South  they  are  comparatively  neglected,  they  are  voluntarily  over- 
looked. There  is  no  State  Church  in  the  one  case  to  take  credit  for 
men's  zeal,  and  in  the  other,  to  receive  blame  for  their  callousness. 
The  same  difference  is  observable  in  both  countries  in  connexion 
with  latitude.  But  taking  each  country  as  a  whole,  the  religious 
sentiment  is  more  extensively  diffused,  and  more  active  in  its  opera- 
tions in  America  than  in  Great  Britain.  And  this,  in  a  country  in 
which  religion  has  been  left  to  itself. 

What  then  becomes  of  the  sinister  predictions  of  those  who  assert 
that  a  State  connexion  is  necessary  to  the  vigorous  maintenance  of 
Christianity?  Does  religion  assume  a  languid  aspect  in  America, 
where  there  is  no  such  connexion  1  Is  it  less  vigorous  in  Scotland 
than  in  England,  the  alliance  in  the  former  being  but  partial  as  com- 
pared with  its  closeness  and  intimacy  in  the  latter?  Throughout 
New  England,  the  northern,  and  some  of  the  middle  States,  religion 
is  not  only  as  active,  but  it  is  as  well  sustained  as  it  is  in  this  country, 
notwithstanding  the  aid  and  comfort  which  it  here  receives  from 
the  State. 

Are  proofs  of  the  vitality  and  energy  of  religion  in  America 
wanted?  Look  at  the  number  of  its- churches,  the  extent  and 
character  of  its  congregations,  ths  frequency  of  its  religious  assem- 
blages, the  fervour  <?f  its  religious  exercises,  arid  the  devotion  of  its 
religious  community,  testified  by  their  large  and  multifarious  dona- 
tions for  religious  purposes  both  at  home  and  abroad.  Like  the 
Church  in  Scotland,  the  Church  in  America  too  has  its  great 
schemes,  towards  the  maintenance  of  which  it  is  constantly  and 
liberally  contributing.  It  has  its  Missions,  home  and  foreign,  its 
Bible  and  Tract  Societies,  its  Sunday  School  Unions,  and  associa- 
tions for  the  conversion  of  the  Jews ;  in  short,  there  is  not  a  scheme 
which  has  of  late  interested  the  Christian  world,  in  which  it  does 
not  take  a  cheerful  and  prominent  part.  Does  this  bear  out  the 
assertions  of  those  who  say  that  the  voluntary  system  has  a  paralysing 
influence?  But  we  need  not  go  to  America  for  a  practical  refutation 
of  this  oft  asserted  fallacy.  It  is  amply  furnished  to  us  at  home,  for 
by  far  the  most  energetic  section  of  our  Christian  community  is  that 
which  constitutes  the  great  voluntary  body.  The  proofs  are  all  in 
favour  of  the  converse  of  the  proposition  ;  everything,  both  here 
and  in  America,  tending  to  show  that  the  relifions  sentiment  is 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  247 

more  diffused  and  energetic,  when  allied  to  voluntaryism,  than  when 
it  is  taken  under  the  protection  of  the  State. 

It  is  only  in  America,  however,  that  the  voluntary  principle  has 
had  an  opportunity  of  exhibiting  itself  in  its  proper  character.  There 
are  many,  judging  of  it  from  the  phase  which  it  assumes  in  this 
country,  who  object  to  it,  on  the  ground  of  its  apparent  tendency  to 
run  into  fanaticism,  and  to  carry  that  fanaticism  into  politics.  In  a 
country  divided  between  the  voluntary  principle  and  that  of  an  estab- 
lished Church,  the  tendency  to  over-zeal  and  fanaticism  is  much 
increased,  by  the  conflict  which  is  waged  between  the  two  princi- 
ples. The  blood  of  the  attacking  party  is  always  more  heated  than 
that  of  the  attacked.  The  voluntaries  here  are  the  attacking  party. 
The  Church,  with  some  slight  exceptions,  remains  on  the  defensive, 
the  cohorts  of  voluntaryism  assailing  her  at  every  practicable  point. 
Their  favourite  tactics  consist  in  outstripping  her  in  zeal  and  devo- 
tedness — no  very  difficult  matter;  but  zeal  once  roused,  and  inflamed 
by  resistance,  frequently  runs  into  extremes,  which  it  never  contem- 
plated in  its  cooler  moments.  Thus  the  voluntary  churches,  in  run- 
ning a  race  in  zeal  with  the  Church,  get  into  such  a  habit  of  racing 
that  they  throw  down  the  gauge  to  each  other.  Zeal  thus  rises  into 
enthusiasm,  and  enthusiasm  often  merges  into  fanaticism.  No  matter 
from  what  point  it  starts,  when  religion  reaches  this  p-.-.int  it  becomes 
bigoted,  relentless,  intolerant,  and  persecuting.  It  also  transcends 
the  line  of  its  own  duties,  and  whilst  repudiating  all  connexion  with 
the  State,  would  fain  reduce  the  State  into  subjection  to  it.  For- 
getful of  its  own  vocation,  it  intermeddles  with  matters  of  a  purely 
secular  character,  and  thus,  instead  of  aiding  men  in  their  career  of 
social  advancement,  frequently  throws  the  greatest  stumbling-blocks 
in  their  way.  It  is  thus  that  religion,  in  both  its  established  and 
voluntary  phases  in  this  country,  has  proved  itself  the  greatest  draw- 
back to  education.  Churchmen  and  Voluntaries  seeking  to  make 
it  exclusively  subservient  to  their  own  views,  instead  of  renouncing 
all  connexion  with  it  as  religionists,  and  treating  it  as  primarily  a 
matter  of  secular  concern. 

Voluntaryism  in  America  exhibits  itself  in  a  more  attractive 
aspect.  There,  it  has  the  whole  field  to  itself,  and  its  manifestation 
of  a  more  tractable  disposition  is  owing  not  a  little,  perhaps,  to  the 
absence  of  those  inducements  to  strife  and  opposition  to  which  Dis- 
sent in  this  country  is  exposed.  Let  me  not  be  here  understood  to 
mean  that  religion,  in  the  different  forms  in  which  it  manifests  itself 
in  America,  is  always  characterized  by  that  gentle,  placid  and  for- 
bearing spirit  which  it  should  ever  seek  to  cherish.  It  is  frequently 
as  much  inflamed  by  zeal  and  distorted  by  fanaticism  as  it  is  here ; 
but  there  are  directions  in  which  a  misguided  zeal  often  tends  in 
this  country  which  it  never  takes  in  America.  Here  it  frequently 
applies  itself  to  political  objects,  there  it  scarcely  ever  does  so.  An 


248  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

American  zealot  may  be  quite  reasonable  as  a  politician,  because, 
in  his  capacity  of  zealot,  he  seldom  encounters  a  political  opponent. 
Sects  in  America  contend  with  each  other  almost  exclusively  on  the 
religious  arena,  their  great  object  being  to  outstrip  each  other  in 
fervour  arid  devotion,  partly  from  the  desire  to  spread  what  is  sin- 
cerely believed  to  be  the  truth,  partly  from  the  pride  which  mingles 
with  belief,  and  partly  from  the  desire  to  increase  the  number  and 
social  influence  of  the  sect  throughout  the  Union.  Religion  in 
America  is  rarely  brought  into  the  field  as  a  political  accessary. 
Americans  seek  not  to  achieve  anything  political  through  its  means. 
In  this  respect,  religion  escapes  in  America  the  degradation  to 
which  it  is  so  frequently  subjected  here.  By  refraining  from  inter- 
fering with  politics,  and  confining  itself  to  a  purely  social  influence, 
it  recommends  itself  more  to  the  community  generally,  than  it  would 
do  were  it,  as  in  this  country,  constantly  thwarting  the  progress  of 
secular  interests.  So  little  is  it  the  habit  of  voluntaryism  in  Ame- 
rica to  interfere  in  matters  of  a  political  bearing,  that  when  Con- 
gress, although  the  great  majority  of  the  members  were  Protestants, 
selected  a  Roman  Catholic  priest  as  one  of  its  chaplains,  no  one 
dreamt  of  organizing  a  religious  agitation  to  prevent  such  an  infrac- 
tion of  Protestant  privileges  in  future.  Thus  both  the  State  and 
the  Church  find  it  to  their  account  to  confine  themselves  exclusively 
to  their  respective  provinces,  the  State  abstaining  from  all  interfer- 
ence with  religion  as  the  State,  and  the  Church  taking  no  part  as  the 
Church  in  the  management  of  secular  affairs.  Voluntaryism  in 
America  is,  for  this  reason,  divested  of  many  of  those  features  which 
render  Dissent  unattractive  to  such  numbers  in  this  country.  It  is 
when  in  forced  or  accidental  connexion  with  politics  that  sect  ex- 
hibits itself  in  its  most  repulsive  aspect.  Where  one  denomination 
has  a  political  side,  others  have,  by  consequence,  the  same.  They 
mutually  assail  each*  other,  the  one  to  maintain  its  privileges  and 
extend  its  power:  the  others,  to  defend  themselves  against  coercion, 
and  deprive  their  rival  of  its  usurped  authority.  The  strife  not  being 
of  an  exclusively  religious  character,  the  passions  of  men  are  not 
kept  in  that  check  which  decency  enjoins  upon  them  in  a  purely 
religious  contest.  They  thus  learn  to  carry  into  questions  of  a  direct 
religious  bearing,  if  not  exclusively  of  a  religious  character,  all  the 
excitements  tind  passions  of  political  contention.  Such  is  Dissent 
in  this  country — circumstances  have  made  it  so.  Voluntaryism  in 
America,  being  subjected  to  fewer  causes  of  disturbance,  is  more 
placid  in  its  action,  and  more  engaging  in  its  demeanour.  Sect 
there,  as  here,  is  in  constant  rivalry  with  sect,  but  the  race  they  run 
with  each  other  being  chiefly  a  religions  one,  their  conduct  in  pur- 
suing it  is  more  consistent  with  their  professions,  and  more  in  har- 
mony with  the  spirit  of  genuine  religion,  than  is  the  case  in  the 
warfare  waged  against  each  other  by  denominations  in  this  country. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  249 

In  America,  the  only  disturbing  influences  to  which  sect  is  exposed, 
are  religious  zeal  and  fanaticism;  whereas  in  this  country,  when 
these  are  dead,  it  is  frequently  roused  into  phrenzy  by  political  ex- 
citements. Let  voluntaryism,  therefore,  not  be  judged  of  solely 
from  its  manifestations  in  this  country,  where  there  are  so  many 
influences  at  work  inimical  to  its  more  favourable  development. 

The  reader  has  scarcely  to  be  told  that  nine-tenths  of  the  Ame- 
rican people  are  Protestants.  The  number  of  sects  into  which  they 
are  divided  and  subdivided  can  only  be  ascertained  by  a  patient 
investigation  of  the  census.  There  is  no  country  in  the  world  in 
which  sect  flourishes  more  luxuriantly  than  in  America.  This  is 
perhaps  the  natural  result  of  that  freedom  of  opinion  on  matters  of 
religion,  which  is  one  of  the  chief  characteristics  of  the  Protestant 
mind.  Nor. does  any  harm  accrue  from  it,  when  sects  are  not 
brought  into  collision  from  causes  with  which  religion  has,  or  should 
have  nothing  to  do,  seeing  that  the  points  on  which  they  differ  are 
in  reality,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  of  comparatively  minor  import- 
ance. They  suffice  nevertheless  to  separate  sect  from  sect,  and  to 
engender  between  them  that  spirit  of  rivalry  which  some  regard  as 
advantageous  to  the  spread  and  preservation  of  the  truth,  each  sect 
keeping  a  vigilant  and  jealous  eye  on  the  creed  and  inculcations  of 
its  rivals. 

As  regards  numbers,  the  following  is  the  order  in  which  the  prin- 
cipal sects  range  in  America.  First  come  the  Methodists,  who  have 
upwards  of  7,000  ministers,  and  more  than  1,200,000  communicants. 
Next  in  order  are  the  Baptists,  divided,  like  the  Methodists,  into 
numerous  sub-sects,  and  having  about  the  same  number  of  ministers, 
but  not  quite  so  many  communicants.  After  these  come  the  Presby- 
terians, divided  into  the  New  school  and  Old  school  party,  the  quarrel 
between  them  having  partly  arisen  from  slight  doctrinal  differences, 
and  partly  in  connexion  with  some  property.  The  former  is  the 
more  numerous  section,  having  about  1,700  ministers,  and  nearly 
200,000  communicants ;  the  latter  about  1 ,300  ministers,  and  150,000 
communicants.  United,  they  have  about  3,000  ministers,  and  350,000 
communicants.-  The  Congregationalists  follow  next  in  order,  having 
about  1,800  ministers,  and  a  little  upwards  of  200,000  communicants. 
These  are  subdivided  into  the  Orthodox  and  Unitarian  Congrega- 
tionalists, the  latter  having  nearly  275  ministers,  and  40,000  com- 
municants. The  Evangelical  Lutherans  follow  next  in  order,  a 
denomination  chiefly  composed  of  German  emigrants  and  their 
descendants.  They  have  about  500  ministers,  and  145,000  com- 
municants. The  Episcopalians  follow,  with  upwards  of  1,300 
ministers,  and  about  80,000  communicants;  immediately  after 
whom  come  the  Universalists,  with  more  than  700  ministers,  and  up- 
wards of  60,000  communicants.  It  is  needless  to  trace  the  relative 
standing  of  the  minor  sects.  New  England  is  the  chief  seat  of  Con- 


250  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

gregationalism  in  its  two  phases,  Orthodox  and  Unitarian,  and  of 
Uriiversalism.  The  principal  stronghold  of  Presbyterianism  is  in  the 
Northern  States,  although  in  no  other  part  of  the  Union  does  any 
one  denomination  so  completely  predominate  as  the  Congregation- 
alists  do  in  New  England.  The  wealth,  fashion,  and  intelligence  of 
that  part  of  the  country  are  included  within  this  denomination, 
although,  taking  the  country  generally,  the  predominance  of  wealth 
and  intelligence  is  with  the  Presbyterians,  notwithstanding  that  they 
rank  but  third  in  point  of  numbers.  The  Episcopalians  are  compa- 
ratively few  in  number,  but  there  is  much  wealth  and  intelligence 
with  them.  With  the  exception  of  the  judges  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  at  Washington,  I  never  beheld  a  civil  functionary  in  America 
decorated  with  any  of  the  paraphernalia  of  office  to  which  the  Euro- 
pean eye  is  so  accustomed.  With  the  exception  of  the  Episcopal 
clergy  in  America,  I  never  saw  a  Protestant  minister  wear  either 
gown  or  surplice  in  the  pulpit. 

In  the  above  enumeration  the  Roman  Catholics  have  not  been 
mentioned,  confined  as  it  has  been  to  the  Protestant  sects.  Their 
numbers  are  riot  great,  as  compared  with  the  Protestants ;  but  they 
are  nevertheless  a  sect  of  considerable  power  in  the  Union.  In  1848 
they  had  about  850  churches — nearly  900  priests,  and  1,175,000 
communicants.  It  would  not  be  correct,  however,  in  comparing 
their  aggregate  number  with  that  of  the  other  sects,  to  take  the 
number  of  communicants  as  the  basis  of  comparison ;  inasmuch  as 
with  the  Roman  Catholics  almost  every  adult  is  reckoned  a  commu- 
nicant, which  is  far  from  being  the  case  with  the  adherents  of  the 
Protestant  denominations.  The  Catholics  are  a  strong  body  in  all 
the  large  towns  ;  and  in  some  parts  of  the  country  they  have  rural 
districts,  of  considerable  extent,  under  their  sway.  Until  the  pur- 
chase of  Louisiana,  in  1803,  Maryland  was,  in  point  of  numbers,  the 
leading  Catholic  State  in  the  Union,  as  she  is  yet  in  point  of  influ- 
ence. As  the  American  has  not  yet  out-numbered  the  French 
population  in  Louisiana,  it  follows  that  the  larger  moiety  of  the 
white  inhabitants  of  that  State  are  Roman  Catholics. 

It  is  to  her  colonial  origin  that  Maryland  owes  the  pre-eminence 
which  she  has  so  long  maintained  as  the  chief  seat  of  Roman  Catholic 
influence  in  the  Union.  After  other  sects  had  fled  from  the  Old 
World  to  the  New  to  escape  persecution,  the  Catholics,  in  some  in- 
stances, found  that  they  too  were  in  want  of  a  place  in  which  they 
could  worship  God  according  to  their  consciences.  They  accord- 
ingly emigrated  in  great  numbers  to  the  State  of  Maryland,  named 
after  Queen  Mary,  and  being  for  some  time  a  proprietary  colony 
belonging  to  Lord  Baltimore,  whose  name  its  chief  town  still  bears. 
The  Roman  Catholic  colonists  set  an  early  example  of  religious  tole- 
ration, which  was  but  ill  requited  by  the  Protestants,  as  soon  as  they 
attained  a  numerical  superiority  in  the  State.  The  number  of  Roman 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  251 

Catholics  in  the  State  is  now  daily  diminishing,  as  compared  with  that 
of  the  Protestants — the  hold  which  Catholicism  now  has  of  Maryland 
consisting  chiefly  of  the  adhesion  to  it  of  many  of  the  older  families  of 
the  State.  The  Catholic  cathedral  at  Baltimore  has  already  been 
adverted  to,  in  the  brief  description  given  of  that  city.  The  only 
other  ecclesiastical  edifice  in  the  Union,  dedicated  to  Catholicism, 
which  deserves  the  name,  is  the  cathedral  at  New  Orleans. 

It  is  not  so  much  on  account  of  its  present  number  of  adherents, 
or  the  influence  which  it  now  exerts,  that  Catholicism  in  the  United 
States  demands  the  attention  of  Christendom.  It  is  in  view  of  its 
future  prospects,  that  it  assumes  an  attitude  of  rather  a  formidable 
character.  Nowhere  on  earth  is  the  far-seeing  policy  of  the  Church 
of  Rome  at  present  so  adroitly  displayed  as  on  the  American  conti- 
nent. Indeed  from  the  earliest  epoch  of  colonization  we  find  her 
aiming  at  the  religious  subjugation  of  America.  For  a  time  success 
seemed  to  crown  her  efforts.  The  whole  of  South  America,  Cen- 
tral America,  and  the  greater  part  of  North  America,  together  with 
all  the  islands  on  the  coast,  were  divided  between  the  crowns  of 
Portugal,  France  and  Spain.  England,  for  many  years  after  her 
first  attempt  at  colonization,  possessed  but  a  comparatively  narrow 
strip  of  land  between  the  Atlantic  and  Alleghanies,  and  extending 
along  the  sea-board  from  Acadia  to  Georgia.  New  France  swept 
round  the  English  colonies,  from  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lawrence  to 
that  of  the  Mississippi,  whilst  the  Spanish  Floridas  intervened  be- 
tween them  and  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Within  this  wide  embrace, 
with  the  ocean  in  front,  lay  the  group  of  Protestant  colonies  belong- 
ing to  England.  It  was  not  sufficient  for  the  Church  of  Rome  that 
she  hemmed  them  in  on  three  sides  by  her  territory.  The  wide  do- 
main which  owned  her  sway  was  but  thinly  peopled,  whilst  the  English 
colonies  were  rapidly  filling  with  population.  Protestantism  was  thus 
fast  attaining  on  the  continent  a  more  extensive  moral  influence  than 
its  competitor.  It  was  then  that  a  Roman  Catholic  colony  was 
planted  in  its  very  midst,  on  the  shores  of  the  Chesapeake,  the  policy 
of  that  church  having  had  no  little  influence  on  the  moral  destinies  of 
Maryland.  But  the  tide  had  set  in  too  strongly  in  favour  of  the  rival 
system,  and  it  soon  overpowered  all  opposition  to  it.  Since  that 
time  Catholicism  in  Maryland  has  acted  more  on  the  defensive  than 
otherwise — its  object  having  chiefly  been  to  maintain  itself  as  a 
centre  and  rallying  point  for  Catholicism  in  the  Union  with  a  view  to 
future  operations  in  new  and  vaster  scenes  of  action. 

The  ground  has  now  for  many  years  been  broken,  and  these  ope- 
rations have  long  since  actively  commenced.  The  Roman  Catholic 
church  has,  in  a  manner,  abandoned  the  comparatively  populous 
States  of  the  the  sea-board,  arid  fixed  its  attention  upon  the  valley  of 
the  Mississippi.  In  this  it  has  discovered  a  far-seeing  policy.  Nine- 
teen-twentieths  of  the  Mississippi  valley  are  yet  under  the  dominion 


252  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

of  the  wilderness.  But  no  portion  of  the  country  is  being  so  rapidly 
filled  with  population.  In  fifty  years  its  inhabitants  will,  in  number, 
be  more  than  double  those  of  the  Atlantic  States.  The  Church  of 
Rome  has  virtually  left  the  latter  to  the  tender  mercies  of  contend- 
ing Protestant  sects,  and  is  fast  taking  possession  of  the  great  valley. 
There,  opinion  is  not  yet  so  strongly  arrayed  against  her,  and  she 
has  room  to  hope  for  ultimate  ascendancy.  In  her  operations,  she 
does  not  confine  herself  to  the  more  populous  portions  of  the  valley, 
her  devoted  missionaries  penetrating  its  remotest  regions,  wherever 
a  white  man  or  an  Indian  is  to  be  found.  Wherever  the  Protestant 
missionary  goes  he  finds  that  he  has  been  forestalled  by  his  more 
active  rival,  whose  coadjutors  roarn  on  their  proselytizing  mission 
over  vast  tracts  of  country,  into  which  the  Protestant  has  not  yet 
followed  him  with  a  similar  object.  Catholicism  is  thus,  by  its  ad" 
vance-guards,  who  keep  pace  with  population  whithersoever  it  spreads, 
sowing  broad-cast  the  seeds  of  future  influence.  In  many  districts, 
the  settler  finds  no  religious  counsellor  within  reach  but  the  faithful 
missionary  of  Rome,  who  has  thus  the  field  to  himself — a  field  which 
he  frequently  cultivates  with  success.  In  addition  to  this,  seminaries 
in  connexion  with  the  church  are  being  founded,  not  only  in  places 
which  are  now  well  filled  with  people,  but  in  spots  which  careful 
observation  has  satisfied  its  agents  will  yet  most  teem  with  popula- 
tion. Ecclesiastical  establishments  too  are  being  erected,  which 
commend  themselves  to  the  people  of  the  districts  in  which  they  are 
found  by  the  mode  in  which  they  minister  to  their  comforts  and  their 
necessities  when  other  means  of  ministering  to  them  are  wanted. 
The  Sisters  of  Charity  have  already  their  establishments  amid  the 
deep  recesses  of  the  forest,  prescribing  to  the  diseased  in  body,  and 
administering  consolation  to  the  troubled  in  spirit,  long  before  the 
doctor  or  the  minister  makes  his  appearance  in  the  settlement.  By  this 
attention  to  the  physical  as  well  as  to  the  moral  wants,  the  Roman 
emissaries,  ere  there  are  yet  any  to  compete  with  them,  gain  the  good 
will  of  the  neighbourhood  in  the  midst  of  which  they  labour,  and 
proselytism  frequently  follows  hard  upon  a  lively  sentiment  of  grati- 
tude. Circumstances  have  favoured  the  Church  of  Rome  in  the 
development  of  this  policy.  When  both  the  St.  Lawrence  and  Mis- 
sissippi, with  most  of  their  tributaries,  were  in  the  possession  of 
France,  a  belt  of  ecclesiastical  establishments  accompanied  the  chain 
of  military  posts,  which,  extending  westward  from  the  coast  of  La- 
brador to  the  lakes,  descended  thence  to  the  mouth  of  the  Ohio,  and 
then  spread  north  and  south  on  both  banks  of  the  Mississippi.  The 
basis  was  then  laid  for  the  future  operations  of  the  Church.  It  is 
nearly  a  century  since  France  lost  Canada,  since  which  time  a  gap 
intervened  between  the  Church's  establishments  in  its  eastern  section 
and  those  dotting  the  province  of  Louisiana.  But  down  to  the  year 
1803,  the  whole  of  the  west  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  and  both  banks 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  253 

in  the  neighbourhood  of  its  mouth,  were  in  the  hands  of  the  French, 
the  advanced  posts  of  the  Church  spreading  and  multiplying  between 
St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans,  whilst  the  eastern  or  Protestant  bank  of 
the  river  was  yet  an  unbroken  wilderness.  The  present  operations 
of  the  Church  of  Rome,  therefore,  in  the  valley,  cannot  be  regarded 
as  an  invasion  of  that  region,  her  object  now  being  to  profit  by  the 
advantages  which  she  so  early  secured.  Were  the  Protestant  sects  to 
confront  her  as  actively  as  they  might,  in  the  great  field  which  she 
has  thus  selected  for  herself,  they  might  even  yet  check  her  growth 
and  limit  her  influence.  But  they  seem  to  be  either  unaware  of,  or 
indifferent  to,  the  danger  with  which  they  are  menaced.  They  are 
seeking  to  rival  each  other  in  the  older  States,  whilst  their  common 
rival  is  laying  a  broad  foundation  for  future  influence  in  that  region, 
which  will  soon  eclipse  the  older  States,  in  population  at  least.  Both 
in  St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans,  some  of  the  best  seminaries  for  young 
ladies  are  Catholic  Institutions,  and  not  a  few  of  those  who  attend 
them  become  converts  to  the  Church.  But  it  is  in  the  remote  and 
yet  comparatively  unpeopled  districts  that  the  probabilities  of  her 
success  in  this  respect  are  greatest.  She  has,  thus,  in  the  true  spirit 
of  worldly  wisdom,  left  Protestantism  to  exhaust  its  energies  amongst 
the  more  populous  communities ;  and  going  in  advance  of  it  into 
the  wilderness,  is  fast  overspreading  that  wilderness  with  a  net-work 
which  will  yet  embrace  multitudes  of  its  future  population.  How  can 
it  be  otherwise  when,  as  settlements  arise,  they  find  at  innumerable 
points  the  Church  of  Rome  the  only  spiritual  edifice  in  their  midst. 
Were  she  to  secure  the  valley,  she  would  gain  more  in  America  than 
all  she  has  lost  in  Europe.  The  stake  is  worth  striving  for  ;  and  Pro- 
testantism would  far  more  consult  its  own  interests  by  directing  its 
efforts  less  to  the  Niger  and  more  to  the  Mississippi. 

For  a  long  time  a  strong  aversion  to  the  Americans  actuated  the 
French  settlements,  an  aversion  chiefly  founded  upon  religious  con- 
siderations. The  priesthood  regarded  republicanism  as  inimical  to 
the  hierarchy,  and  imbued  their  flocks  with  the  same  belief.  The 
existence  of  the  belief  that  a  connexion  with  them,  if  successful, 
would  be  inimical  to  the  .interests  of  the  Church,  was  one  of  the 
chief  sources  of  the  loyalty  which  the  French  Canadians  exhibited 
in  refusing  to  join  the  revolutionary  movement  on  which  the  Pro- 
testant colonies  embarked  in  1776.  The  purchase  of  Louisiana, 
however,  and  its  incorporation  for  the  last  forty-five  years  with  the 
Union,  have  greatly  tended  to  weaken  this  belief,  and  to  eradicate 
from  the  Catholic  mind  in  America  the  aversion  which  it  once  enter- 
tained to  a  political  connexion  with  the  Republic.  The  habitans 
are  now  rapidly  reconciling  themselves  to  the  idea  of  such  a  con- 
nexion. The  same  feeling  actuated,  and  to  some  extent  still  actu- 
ates, the  Mexicans.  Apprehensive  that  the  war  which  broke  out  in 
1846  might  end  in  the  entire  subjugation  of  their  country,  the  Mex- 

Voi,  II.— 22 


254  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

ican  hierarchy  sent  emissaries  into. the  Union  to  ascertain  the  precise 
effect  which  such  an  event  would  have  upon  the  Church ;  and,  from 
all  I  could  learn  at  the  time,  they  returned  with  their  fears,  if  not 
wholly  removed,  at  least  greatly  diminished. 

I  have  already  intimated  that  sect  in  America  is  not  wanting  in 
occasional  ebullitions  of  zeal  and  fanaticism.  Indeed  with  some 
sects  fanaticism  sometimes  attains  an  extravagance  which  borders  on 
the  sublime.  As  violent  fits  could  not  last  long  without  exhausting 
the  body,  so  these  periodic  religious  spasms — fortunately  for  the 
sanity  of  the  public  mind, — although  they  pretty  frequently  occur, 
are  only  temporary  in  their  duration.  Some  sects  are  cooler  in  their 
moral  temperament  than  others,  and  are  seldom  or  ever  affected  by 
them  ;  but  others  are  afflicted  with  them  almost  with  the  regularity, 
though  with  longer  intervals  between,  of  shivering  fits  during  an 
attack  of  ague.  The  denominations  most  unfortunate  in  this  respect 
are  the  Baptists  and  Methodists,  whilst  occasionally  the  more  sober 
Presbyterians  sympathise  and  fall  a  prey  to  the  disorder.  The  moral 
distemper  which  on  these  occasions  seizes  upon  masses  of  the  popu- 
lation, is  termed  a  "  revival."  Such  visitations  are  not  rare  amongst 
ourselves,  but  it  is  seldom  that  they  attain  anything  like  the  appalling 
influence  which  they  sometimes  gain  in  America.  Like  a  physical 
epidemic,  their  course  is  uncertain  and  capricious,  frequently  attack- 
ing communities  which  have  always  been  ranked  amongst  those 
morally  healthy,  and  passing  over,  in  reaching  them,  others  which 
had  previously  exhibited  themselves  in  a  state  of  almost  chronic  reli- 
gious derangement.  These  revivals,  when  they  occur,  at  first  generally 
embrace  but  one  sect;  but  if  they  take  hold  of  the  public,  they  soon 
draw  other  denominations  into  the  movement,  which  do  not,  however, 
throw  aside  their  distinctiveness  in  taking  part  in  it.  The  interest 
of  the  whole  affair  is  almost  invariably  centred  in  one  peripatetic 
enthusiast,  who,  watching  the  tone  and  temper  of  the  public  mind, 
takes  advantage  of  the  existence  of  a  pervading  ennui,  and  com- 
mences a  religious  campaign  when  any  novelty  is  sure  to  recommend 
itself.  For  a  while  his  success  may  not  appear  to  be  commensurate 
with  his  efforts,  but  by-and-by  the  locality  in  which  he  labours  is 
roused,  the  movement  spreads  into  the  adjoining  districts,  the  revival 
acquires  momentum,  and  millions  are  in  a  frenzy.  The  enthusiast 
proceeds  on  his  tour  of  moral  disturbance  and  religious  agitation. 
In  each  locality  which  he  visits,  the  nucleus  of  the  movement  is  the 
sect  to  which  he  belongs.  Most  of  the  day  is  divided  between  prayer- 
meetings  and  sermons.  People  get  nervous,  and  the  malady  spreads. 
Members  of  other  denominations  flock  to  the  church,  some  from 
curiosity,  others  from  different  motives'.  The  lion  of  the  movement 
is  in  the  pulpit,  sometimes  foaming  at  the  mouth  in  the  midst  of  his 
declamations.  The  weaker  members  of  the  dense  congregation 
yield — they  get  agitated  and  alarmed — hysterics  follow,  and  some 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  255 

are  in  tears.  The  sympathy  of  numbers  tells  upon  many  more — 
hopes  are  inspired  and  alarm  engendered,  which  bring  them  back 
again  to  the  scene,  to  be  similarly  influenced  as  before — and  they 
end  by  seeking  the  "  anxious  seat,"  confessing  their  sins,  and  being 
"born  again."  Business  is  neglected,  families  are  divided  and  dis- 
turbed, and  the  greater  part  of  the  community,  but  not  until  their 
nerves  are  almost  shattered,  give  way  more  or  less  to  the  reigning 
fanaticism  of  the  hour.  Hundreds  are  added  to  the  church  in  a  day. 

During  one  of  these  revivals,  which  it  was  my  lot  to  witness,  and 
of  which  the  Baptist  denomination  was  the  primum  mobile,  I  knew 
as  many  as  five  hundred  baptized  in  the  course  of  three  hours,  in  a 
huge  tub  which  was  kept  at  the  foot  of  the  pulpit  for  the  purpose. 
Rakes  are  reclaimed,  prodigal  sons  return  to  their  long-neglected 
duties,  backsliders  make  open  confession  of  their  sins  in  the  church 
and  are  reinstated,  and  hundreds  who  have  been  hitherto  indifferent 
give  way  to  the  fervour  of  the  hour.  And  this  is  what  is  called 
making  converts.  The  consequences  almost  invariably  prove  how 
great  a  mistake  is  made  in  this  respect.  Numbers  of  those  who, 
yielding  to  an  impulse  engendered  more  by  a  physical  excitement 
than  anything  else,  in  the  moment  of  dread  or  enthusiasm,  enrol 
themselves  as  converts,  relapse  into  their  former  ways  as  soon  as  the 
paroxysm  is  past,  and  the  reaction  ensues.  They  do  worse  than  this, 
for  a  backward  step  taken  under  such  circumstances  is  tantamount 
to  several  under  circumstances  of  an  ordinary  description.  There  is 
then  the  pernicious  example  which  they  set  to  be  taken  into  account, 
and  the  readiness  with  which  the  scoffer  seizes  upon  their  back- 
slidings  to  throw  ridicule  upon  religion  itself.  When  will  these 
zealots  learn  that  religion  is  a  matter  of  the  judgment  as  well  as  of 
the  feelings?  Yet  the  whole  of  their  system  of  revivals  is  built  upon 
an  exclusive  appeal  to  the  weaker  side  of  man's  nature.  They  may 
trample  upon  the  judgment  for  the  time  being,  but  they  cannot 
always  keep  it  in  thrall ;  and  when  it  does  assert  its  supremacy,  it 
may  avenge  itself  for  having  been  dragged  into  one  extreme  by  per- 
mitting itself  to  be  hurried  into  another.  The  principle  of  these 
audacious  caricatures  upon  religion  is  not,  "  come,  let  us  reason 
together,"  but,  "  come,  and  be  scared  into  conversion."  The  fanati- 
cism which  they  engender  is  fierce  whilst  it  lasts;  but  the  reaction, 
which  is  not  long  delayed,  does  incredible  mischief  to  the  cause  of 
rational  religion. 

The  most  enthusiastic  revival  ever  witnessed  by  me  had  its  incep- 
tion amongst  the  Baptists.  It  commenced  somewhere  in  the  West, 
and  spread  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  over  a  large  portion 
of  the  Northern  States,  embracing  at  last  the  adherents  of  almost 
every  sect  within  its  influence.  The  source  of  this  moral  perturba- 
tion was  an  Elder  belonging  to  the  denomination  named,  who  made 
the  tour  of  the  North  and  North-west.  Wherever  he  went,  he  soon 


25G  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

managed  to  engender  a  perfect  furore,  thousands  flocking  to  hear 
him  rave,  and  hundreds  being  almost  daily  frightened  by  him  into 
repentance  and  regeneration.  A  large  proportion  of  the  residents 
of  each  town  in  which  he  pitched  his  tent  for  a  time  were  excessively 
annoyed,  inconvenienced,  and  scandalized  by  the  proceedings  which 
accompanied  his  sojourn,  and  one  had  cause  to  be  thankful  in  walk- 
ing the  streets  if  he  escaped  impertinent  encounters  by  the  way.  I 
was  myself  frequently  stopped  on  the  public  pavement  by  parties 
whom  I  knew  not,  and  admonished  to  repent,  and  go  and  be  baptized. 
On  one  occasion  I  was  met  and  accosted  by  the  Elder  himself. 

"  Young  man,"  said  he,  stopping  me,  and  laying  his  hand  pater- 
nally upon  my  shoulder,  "  how's  your  soul  ?" 

"Quite  well,  I  thank  you,"  I  replied, — "how's  yours?" 

"  Bless  the  Lord  !"  he  continued. 

"  Amen  !"  I  responded. 

"  You're  an  heir  of  damnation,"  said  he  in  great  haste,  after  appa- 
rently measuring  me  from  top  to  toe  with  his  eye. 

"  The  idea  seems  to  give  you  positive  pleasure,"  observed  I. 

He  looked  at  me  again  for  a  few  moments,  after  which  he  told 
rne  in  great  confidence  that  the  sons  of  Anak  would  be  brought 
low.  To  this  1  replied  that,  not  knowing  them,  I  could  not  be 
expected  to  feel  much  interest  in  their  fate. 

He  looked  hard  at  me  again  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  shouted 
so  as  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  passers-by — "  You're  a  Scribe — 
you're  a  Scribe  !" 

"  Anything  but  a  Pharisee,"  I  replied,  and  walked  on,  leaving  him 
to  make  what  application  he  pleased  of  my  response. 

He  was  very  successful  in  his  agitation  whithersoever  he  went, 
throwing  town  after  town  into  paroxysms  of  excitement,  and  secur- 
ing in  each  a  great  many  converts  for  the  nonce.  The  per-centage 
of  them  who  shortly  afterwards  became  backsliders  was  very  great. 
It  seemed  to  be  his  peculiar  delight  to  vulgarize  religion  as  much 
as  he  could,  frequently  making  use  of  similies  which  bordered  on 
ribaldry,  and  sometimes  even  on  blasphemy.  On  one  occasion, 
being  tired  of  the  Gospel,  he  betook  himself  to  slander,  telling  his 
hearers  in  one  breath  to  be  forbearing  and  to  love  one  another,  and 
in  the  next  indulging  in  the  most  uncharitable  suspicions  of  his 
neighbours.  Amongst  others  whom  he  slandered  was  an  hotel- 
keeper,  who  also  became  the  victim  of  the  malicious  inuendoes  of 
his  chief  disciple.  This  gave  rise  to  two  parties  in  the  community,  the 
enthusiasts  rallying  round  the  Elder,  and  the  "  ungodly,"  as  they 
were  termed,  ranging  themselves  under  the  standard  of  the  injured 
party.  The  more  orderly  and  decorous  portion  of  the  inhabitants 
kept  themselves  aloof  from  both  parties.  At  length  the  time  of  the 
Elder's  departure  drew  near,  and  it  was  known  that  his  chief  disci- 
ple was  to  accompany  him.  A  disturbance  of  the  public  peace 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  257 

was  apprehended,  and  the  friends  of  order  advised  them  to  depart 
secretly.  This  they  refused  to  do,  persisting  in  their  resolution  to 
go  at  the  time  fixed  upon  by  the  regular  stage.  The  morning  of 
their  departure  was  one  of  commotion  bordering  on  riot.  The 
"  ungodly"  had  procured  a  wagon,  which  they  filled  with  musi- 
cians, who  rode  up  and  down  the  street  in  which  the  obnoxious 
individuals  were  lodging,  playing  the  Rogue's  March.  It  was  not 
until  they  had  both  got  into  the  stage  and  were  about  to  depart, 
that  the  disciple  was  arrested  in  an  action  of  slander,  at  the  suit  of 
the  aggrieved  inn-keeper.  Both  he  and  the  Elder,  as  well  as  their 
numerous  abettors,  gloried  in  this;  it  was  persecution,  and  of  itself 
testified  to  the  high  origin  of  their  mission.  Bail  was  scon  pro- 
cured, and  the  parties  permitted  to  proceed  on  their  way,  the  musi- 
cians following  them  out  of  the  town  with  no  very  complimentary 
airs.  Some  months  afterwards  the  action  came  on  for  trial  in  the 
same  place.  The  Elder  was  the  chief  witness  on  the  part  of  the 
defendant.  When  in  the  witness-box,  he  was  asked  by  the  counsel 
for  the  plaintiff,  if  he  had  not  had  reason  to  believe  that  his  depar- 
ture, unless  private,  would  occasion  some  display  inimical  to  the 
public  peace?  He  said  he  had  been  informed  to  that  effect. 

"  Were  you  not  advised  to  depart^secretly  ?"  he  was  asked. 

"  I  was,"  replied  he. 

"  And  why  did  you  not  do  so?"  was  the  next  query  put  to  him. 

"  Because  I  was  determined  to  have  my  way,"  he  replied,  "  and 
to  let  the  devil  have  his." 

In  commenting  upon  this  part  of  the  evidence,  the  counsel  for  the 
defendant  emphatically  approved  of  the  Elder's  determination  to 
make  an  open  and  public  exit  from  the  town,  even  at  the  risk  of  a 
disturbance  of  the  peace,  citing  the  conduct  of  Neherniah  in  his 
justification,  who,  when  advised  to  fly  from  the  enemies  of  the  Lord, 
refused  to  do  so.  But  the  opposite  counsel  was  not  to  be  put  down 
by  such  authority  as  this,  and  contended  that  if  scriptural  precedent 
was  to  be  relied  upon,  it  must  follow  the  rule  of  precedents  in  other 
cases,  which  is  that,  cetcris  parilms,  the  latest  shall  rule.  The  case 
of  St.  Paul,  he  maintained,  was  more  binding  because  more  recent 
than  that  of  Nehemiah,  the  great  Apostle  having  been  let  down  from 
the  walls  of  Damascus  in  a  basket,  when  his  exit  otherwise  from  the 
city  might  have  involved  a  violation  of  public  order.  In  the  sight 
of  the  audience  this  gave  the  whole  matter  rather  a  ludicrous  turn, 
judges,  jury,  bar,  and  spectators  smiling  at  the  retort.  It  was 
received  by  the  community  in  the  same  spirit,  and  treated  as  a  good 
joke,  and  did  much  towards  undoing  the  effects  of  the  Elder's 
preaching.  It  is  not  always  that  revivals  lead  to  such  scenes,  but 
they  are  generally  accompanied  by  a  degree  of  fanaticism  and 
intolerance  truly  deplorable.  They  disturb  the  peace  of  families 
and  unsettle  the  ordinary  relations  of  society.  Happily  their  effects 

22* 


258  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

are  evanescent,  or  they  would  be  the  more  to  be  regretted.  Nor 
are  they  always  so  violent  as  some  that  I  have  seen.  Occasionally 
they  are  what  would  be  denominated  failures,  from  being  attempted 
when  the  public  mind  is  not  in  proper  tune  for  them.  The  most 
decorous  are  those  which  originate  with  the  Presbyterians. 

There  are  many  in  this  country  who  fall  into  the  mistake  of  sup- 
posing that  the  voluntary  system,  as  developed  in  America,  is  utterly 
incompatible  with  that  degree  of  independence  on  the  part  of  the 
clergy,  which  is  necessary  to  enable  them  efficiently  to  perform  their 
duties.  Amongst  others  who  have  fallen  into  this  error  is  Lord 
John  Russell,  who,  notwithstanding  his  vast  and  varied  information 
on  other  subjects,  is  generally  at  fault  when  he  undertakes  to  speak 
of  the  United  States.  I  have  heard  him  in  the  House  of  Commons 
illustrate  his  argument  that  voluntaryism  was  inconsistent  with  cleri- 
cal independence,  by  alluding  to  the  condition  of  the  clergy  in 
America,  who,  he  contended,  were  so  utterly  dependent  for  subsist- 
ence upon  their  flocks,  that  they  dared  not  reprove  them  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  a  pastor  should  sometimes  deal  with  his  people.  If 
their  language  in  the  pulpit,  and  their  conduct  in  the  performance 
of  what  may  be  designated  as  the  more  private  duties  of  the  clergy- 
man, are  to  be  taken  as  affording  any  indication  of  their  independ- 
ence or  subserviency,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a  bolder  or  less 
scrupulous  set  of  preachers  than  those  who  fill  the  American  pulpits. 
So  far  from  dealing  leniently  with  the  shortcomings  of  their  congre- 
gations, they  deal  with  them  in  a  manner  which  many  Englishmen 
would  regard  as  decidedly  offensive.  Whatever  may  be  the  vices 
of  voluntaryism  in  America,  it  cannot  properly  be  alleged  against  it 
that  it  muzzles  the  clergy. 

I  have  already  alluded  to  the  number  of  religious  and  benevolent 
schemes  to  which  the  various  churches  in  America  very  liberally 
contribute,  as  evidence  of  their  zeal.  Farther  proof  of  this  is  found 
in  the  frequency  with  which,  in  some  instances,  they  give  themselves 
up  to  their  religious  duties.  I  have  several  times  heard  announce- 
ments to  the  following  effect  made  from  the  pulpit  on  Sunday:  "  On 
Monday  evening  the  usual  monthly  prayer  meeting  in  behalf  of 
foreign  missions  will  be  held,  when  a  subscription  will  be  taken  in 
aid  of  the  missions.  On  Tuesday,  the  Maternal  Association  will  be 
held  at  Mrs,  So-and-so's.  On  Wednesday,  the  usual  weekly  service 
will  take  place  in  the  school-house  adjoining  the  church.  On 

Thursday,  the  Dorcas  Society  will  meet  at  Mrs. 's.  On  Friday, 

will  be  held  the  ordinary  Sunday-school  teachers'  meeting;  and,  on 

Saturday,  district  prayer  meetings  will  take  place  at  "  (here 

would  follow  a  number  of  places  in  different  districts).  And  all  this 
in  addition  to  three  services  on  Sunday,  and  a  Sunday-school  also  to 
attend  to.  It  always  appeared  to  me,  on  these  announcements  being 
made,  absorbing  as  they  did  every  evening  in  the  week,  that  the 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  259 

fourth  commandment  ran  great  risk  of  being  violated  in  its  second 
clause,  "  six  days  shalt  thou  labour  and  do  all  thy  work." 

American  churches  are  in  general  neatly  built,  and  look  very  light 
and  airy.  In  summer  it  is  absolutely  essential  that  they  should  be 
well  ventilated,  as  the  heat  is  often  oppressive.  There  is  scarcely  a 
pew  but  adds  to  its  other  appendages  one  or  more  large  feather  fans, 
and  the  effect  of  seeing  them  all  waving  at  once,  from  the  com- 
mencement to  the  end  of  the  service,  is  at  first  both  striking  and 
curious.  After  using  it  for  a  few  minutes  one  passes  the  fan  to  his 
or  her  neighbour.  In  winter,  again,  the  churches  are,  in  the  north, 
well  heated  with  stoves,  in  addition  to  which  many  families  bring 
with  them  small  tin  stoves  containing  charcoal  embers,  with  which 
they  keep  their  feet  warm,  passing  them  from  one  to  the  other  as 
they  may  be  required.  The  pulpits  are  quite  a  contrast  to  the  con- 
fined boxes,  generally  looking  like  casks,  from  which  clergymen  in 
this  country  almost  invariably  address  their  hearers.  The  American 
pulpit  is  more  like  the  bench  in  a  court  of  justice,  being  almost 
always  open  at  both  sides,  and  being  sufficiently  spacious  to  contain 
six  or  eight  clergymen  at  a  time.  In  most  of  the  Presbyterian 
churches  the  congregations  face  the  doors,  so  that  a  stranger  on 
entering  finds  himself  confronting  the  whole  audience.  This  is  at 
first  rather  awkward,  but  it  serves  this  good  purpose,  that  the  regu- 
lar sitters  see  him  at  once,  and  are  ready  on  all  sides  to  offer  him  a 
seat.  The  attention  thus  paid  to  the  stranger  in  church  is  almost 
universal  in  America.  Frequently  have  I  seen  a  whole  family  leave 
their  own  pew,  and  scatter  themselves  amongst  their  friends  in  order 
to  accommodate  a  number  of  strangers  entering  together  and  form- 
ing one  party. 

Nor  is  the  organ  in  America  confined  to  the  Episcopal  or  Catho- 
lic churches;  it  is  to  be  found  in  the  Presbyterian,  the  Baptist,,  and 
the  Methodist  church,  whenever  the  means  of  the  congregation  en- 
able them  to  have  it.  Their  having  it,  or  nor  having  it,  is  not  a 
matter  of  principle,  but  merely  a  question  of  expense.  This  of  it- 
self would  suffice  to  account  for  the  superiority  of  the  music  in  the 
American  churches  to  that  in  the  dissenting  churches  here.  But  in 
addition  to  the  possession  of  an  organ,  almost  every  church  has  its 
choir,  which  is  not  composed  of  hired  musicians,  but  generally  con- 
sists of  the  most  respectable  members  of  the  congregation,  male  and 
female,  capable  of  singing  well.  By  introducing  the  organ,  the 
Americans  very  properly  avail  themselves  of  a  great  aid  to  devotion, 
in  doing  which  they  set  a  lesson  both  of  prudence  and  good  sense 
to  their  self-righteous  brethren  in  this  country,  who  are  magnilo- 
quent in  the  confession  of  their  moral  weaknesses,  but  who,  at  the 
same  time,  repudiate  everything  which  might  tend  to  strengthen 
them.  The  poor  rebellious  heart  of  man  frequently  requires  some- 
thing to  solemnize  and  attune  it  for  devotional  exercises,  and  this 


260  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

he  finds  in  the  awe-inspiring  aspect  of  the  cathedral,  and  in  the  deep 
tones  of  the  organ  reverberating  through  the  aisles.  But  some  of 
our  modern  Pharisees  would  counsel  us  to  reject  as  spurious  the  de- 
votional feelings  originating  from  such  sources,  and  to  trust  like 
them  to  our  own  righteousness  and  to  the  strength  of  our  own  pur- 
poses. How  far  this  may  be  presumption,  and  the  other  course  the 
want  of  vital  religion,  let  each  judge  for  himself. 

Notwithstanding  the  rivalry  existing  between  sects  in  America, 
they  frequently  manage  to  suppress  it  to  some  extent  so  far  as  their 
teaching  of  the  young  is  concerned.  I  have  already  shown  how 
far  secular  education  has  been  divorced  from  sect,  and  rescued  from 
its  obstructive  influences.  It  is  in  the  Sunday-schools  that  the 
youthful  mind  is  imbued  with  the  dogmas  of  sect,  each  denomina- 
tion contenting  itself,  so  far  as  the  education  of  youth  is  concerned, 
with  the  influence  which  they  obtain  over  them  in  these  schools. 
But  the  Protestant  sects  frequently  unite  in  Sunday-school  demon- 
strations, when  the  children  from  all  the  schools  are  collected  to- 
gether under  their  teachers,  and  examined  and  addressed  by  the 
clergy  of  the  different  denominations.  I  have  sometimes  seen  them 
marching  in  thousands  to  the  largest  place  of  worship  for  this  pur- 
pose. There  they  were,  embryo  Christians  it  was  to  be  hoped,  but 
certainly  the  germs  of  future  Baptists,  Presbyterians,  Methodists, 
New  Lights  and  Old  Lights,  Congregationalists,  Lutherans,  &c. 

In  conclusion,  let  me  remind  the  reader  that,  notwithstanding  the 
hot  race  of  competition  which  it  sometimes  runs,  and  the  social  and 
individual  tyranny  of  which  it  is  occasionally  guilty,  sect  in  America 
is  not  the  embittered  and  the  envenomed  thing  that  it  is  in  this 
country.  If  voluntaryism  has  vices  inseparable  from  its  very  nature, 
they  are  not  aggravated  there,  as  here,  by  extraneous  causes  already 
explained.  It  may  be  over-zealous,  fanatical,  jealous,  and  sometimes 
even  malignant,  in  its  manifestations;  but  its  evolutions  are  chiefly 
confined  in  America  fo  the  religious  arena,  it  being  extremely  seldom 
that  it  is  found  stepping  aside  from  its  own  sphere  to  jumble  religion 
and  politics  together,  and  to  aggravate  the  odium  theologicmn  by 
adding  to  it  the  acerbities  of  political  contention. 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  261 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

LOWELL. MANUFACTURES    AND     MANUFACTURING    INTEREST    OF    THE 

UNITED    STATES. 

Journey  from  New  Haven  to  Worcester  and  Boston. — Proceed  to  Lowell. — 
Appearances  of  Lowell. — Its  rapid  Growth. — Colonial  Manufactures. — Diffi- 
culties with  which  they  had  to  contend. — Progress  of  American  Manufactures 
during  the  War  of  Independence,  and  that  of  1812. — Motive  Power  used  in 
Lowell,  and  means  of  employing  it. — The  Operatives  of  Lowell. — Educa- 
tional and  other  Institutions. — The  different  Manufacturing  Districts  of  the 

Union New   England — The    Northern   Atlantic    States. — The    Southern 

Allan  tic  States. — The  States  on  the  Mississippi. — Distribution  of  Manufacturing 
Capital  throughout  the  Union. — Rise  of  Cotton  Manufacture  in  America. — 
Exports  of  Cotton  Goods. — Progress  of  other  Manufactures. — Steam  v.  Water 
Power. — Comparative  strength  of  the  Manufacturing  and  Agricultural  Inter- 
ests.— The  dream  of  Self-dependence. — The  Future. 

FROM  New  Haven  I  proceeded  through  the  interior  of  Connecti- 
cut to  Worcester,  in  Massachusetts,  and  thence  direct,  by  railway,  to 
Boston.  Almost  every  inch  of  this  portion  of  New  England  is  rich 
in  colonial  reminiscences ;  the  traveller  constantly  meeting  with  ob- 
jects which  remind  him  of  the  time  when  the  early  colonists  were 
struggling  for  existence  with  the  Indians  ;  when,  relieved  from  their 
common  enemy,  they  persecuted  one  another  ;  when  the  regicides 
lay  concealed  amongst  them  ;  when  they  entered  into  defensive 
leagues  against  their  enemies  the  French,  who  overhung  their  north- 
ern border:  and  when  they  merged  into  that  still  mightier  league, 
which  embraced  the  greater  part  of  the  Atlantic  sea-board,  arid  gave 
nationality  and  independence  to  half  a  continent. 

Between  Worcester  and  Boston  the  country  now  looked  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  appeared  when  I  first  passed  over  it  on  my  way 
to  Washington.  It  was  then  arrayed  in  the  garb  of  winter,  but  was 
now  clad  in  the  warmer  and  more  attractive  habiliments  of  autumn. 
The  trees  were  beginning  to  lose  their  freshness,  and  some  of  them 
had  slightly  changed  their  colour ;  but  that  transformation  had  not 
yet  been  wrought  in  them  which  arrays  in  such  brilliant  effects  the 
last  stages  of  vegetation  in  America  for  the  year.  When  the  frost 
comes  early,  the  change  is  sometimes  wrought  almost  in  a  night. 
To-day  the  forest  seems  clothed  in  one  extended  mantle  of  green — 
to-morrow,  and  it  appears  to  have  appropriated  to  itself  the  cele- 
brated coat  of  Joseph.  The  change  looks  like  the  work  of  magic. 


262  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

The  leaves  are  u  killed"  by  the  frost  during  the  night,  and  dyed  in 
their  new  colours  by  the  sun  of  the  succeeding  morning.  When  a 
large  expanse  of  it  can  be  commanded  by  the  eye,  nothing  can  ex- 
ceed in  beauty  the  American  forest  thus  bedecked  in  its  brilliant 
robe  of  many  colours. 

The  eastern  portion  of  Massachusetts  is  very^flat,  and  is  in  this 
respect  quite  a  contrast  to  its  western  section,  lying  between  the 
beautiful  town  of  Springfield  and  the  Hudson.  The  soil  is  light, 
and  much  of  it  is  under  pasturage.  The  vegetation  became  more 
stunted  as  we  approached  the  coast,  and  we  wpre  surrounded  by 
many  of  the  indications  which  usually  mark  a  tract  consisting  of  a 
marine  deposit. 

After  remaining  a  few  days  in  Boston,  I  proceeded  by  railway  to 
Lowell,  the  distance  being  about  twenty-five  miles.  In  point  of  con- 
struction, this  line  was  one  of  the  best  on  which  I  had  travelled  in 
America.  The  great  majority  of  my  fellow-travellers  were  New 
Englanders,  and  not  a  few  of  them  would  have  served  as  specimens 
of  the  genuine  Yankee.  One  cannot  fail  to  observe  the  tone  and 
demeanour  which  distinguish  the  population  of  this  part  of  the  coun- 
try from  that  inhabiting  the  south  and  west.  They  are  sober,  sedate, 
and  persevering;  not  restless  and  impatient,  like  their  more  mercu- 
rial fellow-countrymen. 

I  was  seated  beside  a  resident  of  Bangor,  in  the  State  of  Maine. 
Amongst  other  subjects  of  conversation  we  canvassed  the  merits  of 
the  treaty  of  Washington,  by  which  the  perilous  question  of  the 
north-eastern  boundary  was  settled.  In  one  thing  we  were  quite 
agreed,  viz.  in  being  both  displeased  with  the  treaty  ;  he  asserting 
that  Mr.  Webster  should  not  have  given  up  an  inch  of  ground  in 
Maine,  and  I  contending  that  Lord  Ashburton  went  very  unneces- 
sarily out  of  his  way  to  cede  Rouse's  Point  to  the  Republic.  Thus, 
although  we  both  ca^me  to  the  same  conclusion,  that  the  treaty  was 
indefensible,  we  approached  it  from  very  different  directions.  Hefe 
was  on  the  whole,  however,  well  pleased  that  the  dispute  had  been 
peaceably  settled.  It  was  not  the  territory  in  dispute,  he  said,  that 
he  cared  for,  but  the  principle  at  issue.  The  land  itself  was  worth 
nothing,  as  he  illustrated  by  assuring  me  that  the  few  who  lived  in  it 
had,  in  winter,  to  be  put  into  warm  water  in  the  morning  to  "  thaw 
their  eyes  open  !"  But  he  did  not  like  the  idea  of  his  country  being 
bullied — which  he  thought  she  had  been — notwithstanding  the 
pains  I  had  been  at  to  show  him  that  for  what  she  lost  in  Maine,  she 
had  received  far  more  than  an  equivalent  elsewhere ;  and  that  peace, 
on  our  part,  would  have  been  more  cheaply  purchased  by  the  simple 
concession  of  the  line  contended  for  as  the  boundary  of  the  State. 

On  approaching  Lowell,  I  looked  in  vain  for  the  usual  indications 
of  a  manufacturing  town  with  us,  the  tall  chimneys  and  the  thick 
volumes  of  black  smoke  belched  forth  by  them.  Being  supplied 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  263 

with  an  abundant  water  power,  it  consumes  but  little  coal  in  carry- 
ing on  its  manufacturing  operations,  the  bulk  of  that  which  it  does 
consume  being  anthracite  and  not  bituminous  coal.  On  arriving  I 
was  at  once  struck  with  the  cleanly,  airy,  and  comfortable  aspect  of 
the  town ;  cheerfulness  seeming  to  reign  around,  and  employment 
and  competence  to  be  the  lot  of  all. 

The  town  of  Lowell,  a  creation  as  it  were  of  yesterday,  is  situ- 
ated on  the  south  bank  of  the  Merrimac,  close  to  the  junction  of  the 
Concord  with  that  stream.  Immediately  above  it  are  the  falls  of  the 
Merrimac,  known  as  the  Pawtucket  Falls,  and  which  supply  the 
town  with  the  motive  power  for  nearly  all  its  machinery.  In  1820 
Lowell  was  scarcely  known  as  a  village,  its  population  at  that  time 
not  exceeding  200  souls.  It  is  now,  in  little  more  than  a  quarter  of 
a  century,  the  second  city  in  Massachusetts  in  point  of  size  and 
wealth,  and  about  the  twelfth  in  the  United  States.  Its  present  popu- 
lation must  exceed  3*0,000. 

Until  recently  American  manufactures  have  had  a  very  up-hill 
game  to  play.  During  the  colonial  times  the  jealousy  of  the  mother 
country  threw  every  obstacle  in  their  way.  Still  they  had  in  them  a 
germ  of  vitality  which  not  only  outlived  every  effort  made  to  quench 
it,  but  which  also  enabled  them  to  expand,  notwithstanding  all  the 
adverse  influences  against  which  they  had  to  contend.  The  imperial 
legislation  of  the  period  would  be  ludicrous  if  it  were  not  lament- 
able, redolent  as  it  was  of  the  spirit  of  monopoly  and  self-interest. 
Its  whole  object  was  to  make  the  colonist  a  consumer,  and  nothing 
else,  of  articles  of  manufacture,  confining  his  efforts  at  production 
to  the  business  of  agriculture.  If  a  manufacturing  interest  raised 
its  head,  no  matter  how  humbly,  in  any  of  the  colonies,  it  was  not 
directly  legislated  down,  it  is  true,  but  was  immediately  surrounded 
by  conditions  and  restrictions  which,  in  too  many  instances,  sufficed 
to  cripple  and  destroy  it.  The  imperial  mind  seemed  to  be  peculiarly 
jealous  of  the  manufacture  of  hats;  an  epitome  of  the  legislation 
in  respect  to  which,  if  now  published,  would  scarcely  be  credited, 
were  it  not  that  the  whole  is  to  be  found  in  the  Statutes  at  Large. 
Of  course,  no  hats  of  colonial  manufacture  were  allowed  to  cover  a 
British  head  on  what  was  strictly  speaking  British  ground.  But  not 
only  were  the  colonists  disabled  from  exporting  their  hats  to  Eng- 
land, they  were  also  forbidden  to  export  them  to  the  adjacent  colo- 
nies. A  hat  made  in  New  Jersey  was  not  only  forbidden  the  English 
market;  it  was  also  a  malum  prohibition  in  that  of  New  York  or 
Massachusetts.  And  to  enhance  as  much  as  possible  their  value  in 
the  colony  in  which  they  were  manufactured,  it  was  forbidden  to 
convey  them  from  point  to  point  by  means  of  horses.  In  carrying 
them  to  market,  therefore,  the  manufacturer  had  to  take  as  many 
upon  his  head  or  shoulders  as  he  conveniently  could ;  but  to  the 
ordinary  modes  of  conveyance  for  merchandise  he  could  not  resort 


264  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

without  the  violation  of  an  imperial  act.  This  is  a  mere  specimen 
of  the  narrow-minded  and  sordid  spirit  in  which  our  colonial  legis- 
lation was  so  long  conceived.  If  it  discovers  any  consistent  object 
throughout,  it  was  that  it  might  render  itself  as  odious  and  vexatious 
as  possible  to  those  who  were  long  in  a  position  which  rendered  any 
thing  but  submission  hopeless.  The  wonder  is  not  that  the  Ameri- 
cans rebelled  in  1776,  but  that  they  bore  the  unnatural  treatment  to 
which  they  were  subjected  so  long.  It  was  not  the  stamp  act  or  the 
tea  tax  that  originated  the  American  revolution,  but  that  feeling  of 
alienation  from  the  mother  country  which  had  been  for  the  previous 
century  gradually  taking  possession  of  the  American  mind.  These 
acts  of  parliament  were  but  the  pretext,  not  the  cause,  of  the  out- 
break. The  mine  was  long  laid,  they  only  set  fire  to  the  train. 

Notwithstanding  the  many  difficulties  with  which  they  had  to 
contend,  colonial  manufactures  had  taken  a  firm  hold  on  the  conti- 
nent for  some  time  previous  to  the  epoch  of  the  Revolution.  That 
event,  by  freeing  them  from  all  imperial  restrictions,  and  throwing 
the  American  people  for  some  time  upon  their  own  resources, 
afforded  them  an  opportunity  by  which  they  failed  not  to  profit. 
The  revolted  colonies  not  only  emerged  from  the  war  with  an  inde- 
pendent political  existence,  but  also  with  a  manufacturing  interest 
exhibiting  itself  in  unwonted  activity  at  different  points,  from  the 
sources  of  the  Connecticut  to  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Mary's.  This 
interest  steadily  progressed,  with  occasional  checks,  until  the  war 
of  1812,  when  the  Republic  was  once  more,  as  regarded  its  con- 
sumption of  manufactured  articles,  thrown  to  a  considerable  extent 
upon  its  own  resources.  So  much  so  was  this  the  case,  that  large 
sections  of  the  country,  where  the  maple  was  not  abundant,  had  to 
supply  themselves  with  sugar  made  from  the  stalk  of  the  Indian 
corn.  During  the  war,  a  large  amount  of  additional  capital  was 
invested  in  the  business  of  manufacturing,  to  which  the  three  years 
from  1812  to  1815  gave  an  immense  and  an  enduring  stimulus. 
Still,  even  as  far  down  as  1816,  the  manufacturing  system  in 
America  had  attained,  as  compared  with  that  of  England,  but  a 
trifling  development;  the  whole  consumption  of  raw  cotton  by  the 
American  looms  for  that  year  being  but  about  half  that  now  con- 
sumed by  those  of  Lowell  alone,  and  not  more  than  one-eighth  the 
annual  consumption  of  England  at  the  same  period.  From  that 
time,  by  adventitious  aids,  the  system  has  been  forced  into  rapid 
growth,  until  it  now  owns  no  rival  but  that  of  England  herself. 

But  as  far  down  as  1816,  Lowell,  now  the  American  Manchester, 
was  undreamt  of.  A  few  huts  then  dotted  the  banks  of  the  Merri- 
mac,  but  the  Pawtucket  Falls  had  no  interest  but  such  as  arose 
from  their  scenic  attractions.  Indeed  it  was  not  until  ten  years 
afterwards  that  the  advantages  of  its  site  were  fully  appreciated ; 
immediately  on  which  the  capital  of  Boston  was  rapidly  invested  in 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  265 

it.  Arid  what  has  been  the  result?  The  town  of  Lowell,  with  all  its 
wealth,  industry,  achievements,  and  prospects.  In  twenty  years  its 
population  increased  one  hundred  fold  ;  the  value  of  its  property 
during  the  same  period  was  enhanced  one  hundred  and  twenty 
fold.  In  1820  its  population,  as  already  observed,  was  about  200; 
the  value  of  its  property  not  above  100,000  dollars.  In  1840  its 
population  vvr.s  20,000,  and  its  property  was  assessed  at  12,500,000 
dollars. 

It  is  supplied  with  motive  power  by  means  of  a  broad  and  deep 
canal,  proceeding  from  the  upper  level  of  the  Falls  along  the  bank 
of  the  river ;  the  majority  of  the  mills  and  factories  being  built  be- 
tween this  canal  and  the  stream.^  The  canal  serves  the  purpose  of 
a  never-failing  mill-dam  to  them  all,  each  drawing  from  it  the 
supply  of  water  necessary  for  the  working  of  its  machinery.  The 
motive  power  thus  placed  at  the  disposal  of  capital  is  equal  to  the 
task  of  turning  about  300,000  spindles.  In  1844  the  number  in 
use  did  not  exceed  170,000;  there  was  therefore  power  then 
wasted  sufficient  to  turn  130,000  more.  But  as  new  companies 
are  constantly  springing  up,  a  power  so  available  will  not  long  be 
unemployed. 

Almost  all  the  mills  in  Lowell  of  any  great  size,  are  owned  by 
incorporated  companies.  A  few  years  ago  there  were  eleven  such 
companies,  owning  amongst  them  no  less  than  thirty-two  mills, 
exclusive  of  print  and  dye-works,  and  all  supplied  with  power  from 
the  canal.  The  chief  of  these  is  that  known  as  the  Merrirnac 
Company,  which  owns  most  of  the  valuable  property  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. To  it  belongs  the  canal  itself,  the  other  companies,  as 
it  were,  renting  the  use  of  it..  In  addition  to  several  large  mills, 
the  Merrimac  Company  possesses  a  large  machine  establishment, 
in  which  is  manufactured  the  machinery  used  in  most  of  the  other 
mills.  In  addition  to  the  mills  owned  by  the  companies,  there  are 
some  factories  of  a  miscellaneous  description,  and  on  a  compara- 
tively small  scale,  owned  by  private  individuals.  The  great  pro- 
prietary company,  from  the  very  first,  took  good  care  that  the  enter- 
prise of  others  should  not  seriously  compete  with  it,  by  purchasing, 
when  it  could  be  procured  at  a  low  rate,  all  the  ground  on  both 
sides  of  the  river  immediately  below  the  Falls.  It  is  in  this  way 
that  the  other  companies  are  not  only  dependent  upon  it  for  their 
water  power,  but  are  also  its  lessees  or  grantees,  as  regards  the  very 
sites  on  which  their  mills  are  erected. 

In  1844  the,re  were  upwards  of  5,000  looms  at  work  in  the  esta- 
blishments of  the  companies,  who  were  then  employing  nearly  10,000 
people,  of  whom  only  about  one-fourth  were  males.  Scarcely  any 
children  were  employed  under  fifteen  years  of  age.  The  average 
wages  of  a  male  were  then  from  seventy-five  to  eighty  cents  a  day, 
or  about  four  dollars  eighty  cents  a  week,  which  make  about  a  pound 

VOL.  II.— 23 


266  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

sterling.  Those  of  a  female  were  from  thirty  to  thirty-five  cents  a 
day,  or  about  two  dollars  a  week,  being  85.  4r/.  sterling.  In  many 
cases  they  were  higher.  The  wages  here  specified  were,  in  both 
cases,  received  exclusive  of  board. 

In  1844  the  aggregate  produce  of  the  different  companies  amounted 
to  about  60,000,000  yards  of  cotton.  This  constituted  their  produce 
simply  in  the  shape  of  plain  goods,  their  print  and  dye  works  during 
the  same  year  turning  out  upwards  of  15,000,000  yards  of  printed 
cloth.  The  consumption  of  raw  cotton  was  close  upon  20,000,000  Ibs.; 
the  aggregate  consumption  of  the  Union  during  the  same  year  was 
nearly  170,000,000  Ibs.;  so  that  Lowell,  which  as  late  as  1820  had 
no  existence  as  a  manufacturing  town,  was  consuming,  in  little  more 
than  twenty  years  after  its  foundation,  fully  one-eighth  of  all  the  raw 
cotton  manufactured  into  fabrics  in  the  United  States.  In  1816,  as 
already  intimated,  the  whole  consumption  of  the  American  looms 
did  not  exceed  11,000,000  Ibs.  By  this  time  Lowell  alone  must  be 
consuming  nearly  treble  that  quantity. 

The  operatives  in  the  different  establishments  are  paid  their  wages 
once  a  month,  the  companies,  however,  paying  their  respective 
workmen  on  different  days,  an  arrangement  which  obviously  serves 
more  than  one  good  purpose.  A  great  portion  of  the  wages  thus 
monthly  received  is  deposited  in  the  Savings'Bank,  particularly  by 
the  females,  who  make  their  work  in  Lowell  a  stepping-stone  to  a 
better  state  of  existence.  After  labouring  there  for  a  few  years  they 
amass  several  hundred  dollars,  rnarry,  and  go  off  with  their  husbands 
to  the  West,  buy  land,  and  enjoy  more  than  a  competency  for  the 
remainder  of  their  days. 

In  all  that  conduces  to  the  improvement  of  the  physical  and 
moral  condition  of  the  operatives,  the  companies  seem  to  take  a 
common  interest,  working  together  to  a  common  end.  The  mills 
are  kept  as  clean,  and  as  well  ventilated,  as  such  establishments  can 
be,  and  their  inmates,  with  but  few  exceptions,  appear  in  the  best 
of  health;  nor  is  there  about--them  that  look  of  settled  melancholy 
which  so  often  beclouds  the  faces  of  our  own  operatives.  They  are 
comparatively  light-hearted,  their  livelihood  being  less  precarious, 
and  their  future  prospects  far  brighter,  if  they  will  only  improve 
their  opportunities,  than  those  of  the  English  factory-labourer. 

Every  attention  is  also  paid  in  Lowell  to  the  education,  not  only 
of  the  young,  but  also  of  the  adults.  By  economy  of  their  time  and 
means  the  women  not  only  manage  to  be  instructed  in  the  elementary 
branches  of  education,  but  also  to  be  taught  some  of  the  accomplish- 
ments of  their  sex.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  find  a  more  acute  and 
intelligent  set  of  men  anywhere  than  are  the  artizans  and  mechanics 
of  Lowell.  They  have  established  an  institution  for  their  mutual 
improvement,  which  is  accommodated  in  a  substantial  and  handsome- 
looking  edifice  known  as  Mechanics'  Hall.  There  are  other  institu- 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  267 

tions  on  a  smaller  scale,  but  of  a  kindred  nature,  in  Lowell.  It  also 
possesses  eight  grammar-schools,  at  which  the  pupils  who  attend 
receive  an  excellent  education.  In  addition  to  this  it  has  no  less 
than  thirty  free  public  schools,  at  which  the  children  of  the  poorer 
classes  are  educated.  The  number  of  children  attending  all  the 
schools  is  about  6,000,  and  this  out  of  a  population  of  about  30,000. 
As  elsewhere  in  the  Union,  the  great  business  of  secular  education 
is  harmoniously  promoted,  without  being  marred  and  obstructed  by 
sectarian  bigotry  and  jealousy.  Even  the  Catholics,  who  are  nume- 
rous in  Lowell,  join  with  the  Protestants  in  the  work,  all  parties 
wisely  and  properly  agreeing  to  forget  their  differences,  in  furthering 
that  in  which  they  have  a  common  interest, — the  education  of  the 
young. 

Such  is  Lowell,  the  growth  as  it  were  of  a  night,  the  quick  result 
of  arbitrary  minimums;  the  fondling  of  Boston  capital,  and  the  pet 
child  of  American  protection.  If  it  does  not  owe  its  existence  to 
high  tariffs,  its  unexampled  progress  is  at  least  attributable  to  them. 
Two  years  after  its  incorporation  as  a  city,  the  almost  prohibitive 
tariff  of  1828  was  passed,  which  enabled  Lowell  at  once  to  realise 
the  most  sanguine  expectations  of  its  projectors.  It  was  no  wonder 
that  under  the  fostering  influence  of  that  tariff,  the  manufactures  of 
America,  both  at  Lowell  and  elsewhere,  rapidly  developed  them- 
selves, seeing  that  its  effect  was  to  secure  by  law  to  capital  invested 
in  a  particular  employment,  a  much  larger  profit  than  it  could  count 
upon  with  any  certainty  when  otherwise  employed.  The  rise  of 
manufacturing  communities  in  other  states  as  well  as  in  Massachu- 
setts has  been  the  consequence, — the  manufacturing  capitalist  finding 
himself  everywhere  rapidly  enriched  by  act  of  Congress  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  consumer.  The  plethoric  corporations  of  Lowell  owing 
their  success  to  protection,  it  is  no  wonder  that  they  should  take  the 
lead  in  its  advocacy.  When  the  Compromise  bill  expired  in  1842, 
they  managed  to  secure  the  enactment  of  a  tariff  more  stringent  in 
its  provisions,  and  consequently  more  favourable  to  themselves,  than 
that  which  had  existed  for  the  previous  ten  years.  The  injustice  to 
the  consumer  of  the  fiscal  system  established  in  that  year  became  so 
manifest  in  184b',  that  it  was  at  length  overthrown  to  make  way  for 
the  revenue  tariff  of  that  year.  The  manufacturers  fought  hard  in 
its  defence,  but  in  vain.  Massachusetts  took  the  lead  on  their  side, 
Lowell  led  Massachusetts,  the  Merrimac  Company  led  Lowell,  and 
Mr.  Appleton  led  the  Company.  But  the  consumers  had  got  their 
eyes  opened,  arid  saw  no  reason  why  they  should  any  longer  be 
taxed  in  addition  to  what  they  were  willing  to  pay  for  the  support 
of  the  government,  for  the  benefit  of  Massachusetts,  Lowell,  the 
Merrimac  Company,  or  Mr.  Appleton.  The  fight,  however,  was  a 
severe  one,  and  if  the  free-trade  party  triumphed  on  the  occasion,  it 
was  only  by  just  escaping  a  defeat. 


268  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

Although  Lowell  is,  perhaps,  the  spot  in  which  is  concentrated 
the  greatest  amount  of  manufacturing  energy,  and  in  which  the 
largest  investment  of  capital  has  been  made  for  the  sole  purpose  of 
manufacturing,  it  forms  but  a  single  point  in  the  general  survey  of 
the  industrial  system  of  America.  There  is  scarcely  a  State  in  the 
Union  in  which  manufactures  of  some  kind  or  olher  have  not  sprung 
up.  The  system  has  as  yet  obtained  but  a  partial  development  west 
of  the  Alleghanies,  but  most  of  the  sea-board  States  present  to  the 
observer  numerous  points  characterised  by  great  industrial  activity. 
Massachusetts  is  undoubtedly  preeminent  in  the  extent  to  which  she 
has  identified  herself  with  manufactures,  in  the  proper  acceptation 
of  the  term.  In  1840  the  capital  invested  in  the  business  of  manu- 
facture in  that  State  must  have  amounted  to  from  fifty  to  sixty  mil- 
lions of  dollars.  In  1837  the  amount  invested  was  upwards  of  fifty- 
two  millions  and  the  value  of  the  manufactures  produced  was  above 
eighty-five  millions.  Between  that  period  and  1842,  that  is  to  say, 
during  the  last  five  years  of  the  existence  of  the  Compromise  Act, 
there  were  no  great  additional  investments  made,  the  operation  of 
that  Act  pot  being  such,  as  regarded  home  fabrics,  as  to  induce 
capitalists  to  turn  their  attention  extensively  to  the  business  of  manu- 
facture. At  the  same  time  there  was  great  uncertainty  as  to  the 
commercial  policy  which  would  be  pursued  on  the  expiration  of  the 
Act,  which  served  as  an. additional  drawback  to  such  an  investment 
of  capital.  But  on  the  passing  of  the  high  tariff  act  of  1842,  when 
the  Union  in  its  economical  policy  appeared  to  be  reverting  to  the 
order  of  things  established  in  1828,  home  manufactures  being  pro- 
tected against  serious  competition,  and  manufacturing  capital  being 
virtually  guaranteed  large  returns  by  Congress  itself,  great  additions 
were  made  to  that  capital <;  so  that  the  amount  now  employed  in 
Massachusetts  cannot  fall  much  short  of  sixty  millions  of  dollars. 
Whether  the  low  tariff  bill  of  1846  has  caused  any  withdrawal  of 
capital  or  checked  the  increase  of  capital  invested  in  manufactures, 
I  cannot  say.  But  although  Massachusetts  may  thus  claim  the  lead 
as  the  chief,  manufacturing  State,  she  is  behind  one  of  the  sister- 
hood of  States,  at  least,  in  the  amount  of  capital  invested  in  in- 
dustrial pursuits,  in  the  broader  sense  of  the  term. 

When  the  manufacturing  districts  of  the  Union  are  spoken  of,  the 
States  of  New  England  are  generally  alluded  to.  They  are  six  in 
number,  and  are  all  more  or  Jess  employed  in  tlie  business  of  manu- 
facture. Maine,  the  most  northerly  of  these,  has  extensive  works  for 
the  production  of  cotton  and  woollen  fabrics,  together  with  several 
paper  mills  and  cast-iron  works.  There  is  also  a  great  quantity  of 
yarn  and  coarse  cloth  produced  at  the  houses  of  the  farmers  and 
others,  whilst  there  are  numerous  establishments  throughout  the 
State  engaged,  each  to  a  small  extent,  in  miscellaneous  manufacture. 
The  capital  thus  invested  in  Maine  in  1846,  must  have  amounted 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  269 

in  all  to  nine  millions  of  dollars.  New  Hampshire,  which  lies  to  the 
west  of  it,  is,  perhaps,  better  provided  with  water-power  than  any 
other  State  in  the  Union.  Of  this  it  has  already  taken  advantage  to 
such  an  extent  as  to  threaten  Massachusetts  with  a  formidable 
rivalry.  In  Nashua,  Dover,  and  other  places,  cotton  and  woollen 
factories  have  rapidly  sprung  up,  and  there  is  scarcely  a  county  in 
the  State  but  presents  its  own  little  focus  of  manufacturing  activity. 
Some  of  the  more  far-seeing  statesmen  of  the  revolutionary  epoch 
predicted  that  New  Hampshire  would  yet  owe  her  prosperity  chiefly, 
if  not  exclusively,  to  the  system  of  manufactures  which  would  spring 
up  within  her  limits.  She  is  in  full  career  to  fulfil  their  predictions, 
and  Massachusetts  will  have  a  hard  struggle  to  keep  up  with  her  more 
rugged  sister.  The  water-power  of  Massachusetts  is  confined  to  a  few 
localities,  whereas,  from  its  broken  and  mountainous  character,  that 
of  New  Hampshire  is  diffused  throughout  its  length  and  breadth. 

The  State  of  Vermont,  which  lies  to  the  west  of  New  Hampshire, 
is  also  abundantly  supplied  with  water-power,  the  same  system  of 
mountains  traversing  them  both.  The  former,  however,  is  far  behind 
the  latter  State  in  industrial  enterprise.  The  amount  of  capital  at 
present  invested  in  manufactures  in  Vermont,  cannot  much  exceed 
five  millions  of  dollars.  And  yet  from  her  position,  Lake  Champlain 
bounding  her  for  its  whole  length  on  the  west,  and  opening  up  a 
highway  for  her  to  the  north  and  the  south,  one  would  have  expected 
greater  things  from  her  in  this  respect.  Passing  over  Massachusetts, 
which  we  have  already  considered  in  this  connexion,  we  come  to 
the  little  State  of  Rhode  Island,  the  miscellaneous  manufacturing 
industry  of  which  at  present  employs  a  capital  of  about  twelve  mil- 
lions of  dollars.  Cottons  and  woollens  are  its  chief  products;  the 
number  of  its  woolleji  manufactories  having  been  in  1840  no  less 
than  forty-one,  and  fth&t  of  its  cotton  mills  two  hundred  and  nine. 
From  the  richness  of  some  of  the  valleys  which  intersect  it,  particu- 
larly that  of  the  Connecticut,  the  State  of  Connecticut  is  propor- 
tionately more  extensively  engaged  in  agriculture  than  any  of  the 
other  States  of  New  England.  But  she  is  not  deficient  in  manufac- 
turing enterprise,  her  capital  invested  in  manufactures  being  about 
fifteen  millions  of  dollars. 

The  capital  now  employed  for  manufacturing  purposes  in  the  six 
New  England  States,  is  upwards  of  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars. 

Leaving  New  England,  the  State  which,  both  from  its  position 
and  the  extent  to  which  it  has  engaged  in  the  business  of  manufac- 
ture, first  attracts  attention,  is  New  York.  It  is  abundantly  supplied 
with  water-power,  which  has  been  turned,  more  or  less,  to  good 
account,  in  various  districts  of  the  State.  This  water-power  is  not 
only  derived  from  the  rapid  changes  of  level  which  take  place  in  the 
channels  of  most  of  its  rivers,  but  is  in  part  produced  by  the  Erie 
canal,  the  waste  water  of  which,  in  addition  to  irrigating  and  fertiliz- 

23* 


270  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

ing  the  country  in  many  parts  where  water  is  much  required,  sup- 
plies the  power  by  which  machinery  may  be  driven.  The  chief  seats 
of  New  York  manufacture  are  Rochester  and  the  neighbourhood  of 
Lockport.  The  almost  inexhaustible  water-power  with  which  the 
rapids  and  the  Falls  of  Genesee  supply  the  former  place,  has  as  yet 
been  chiefly  applied  to  the  manufacture  of  flour;  but  factories  of 
different  kinds  are  rapidly  springing  up  in  it,  and  its  annual  pro- 
duction is  now  of  a  very  miscellaneous  character.  Small  arms  and 
tools  of  all  descriptions  are  produced  here  to  a  great  extent,  and 
some  of  the  largest  tanneries  of  the  State  are  on  the  banks  of  the 
Genesee.  Above  the  Falls,  the  water-power  supplied  by  the  rapids 
has  been  turned  to  account  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  a  succession 
of  huge  stone  edifices,  erected  for  different  manufacturing  purposes, 
confronting  each  other  on  either  bank.  But  below  the  upper  fall, 
the  two  sides  of  the  river  have,  as  at  Lowell,  been  monopolized  by 
those  who  turn  the  available  water-power  to  account  on  but  one 
bank.  The  mills  and  factories  erected  immediately  below  the 
fall,  on  the  Genesee,  occupy  successive  sites  on  its  left  bank,  each 
being  supplied  with  the  power  required  to  drive  its  machinery 
from  a  common  cnnal,  which,  like  the  Pawtucket  canal,  has  its 
origin  at  the  upper  level  of  the  fall,  and  in  its  course  hems  the  mills 
in  between  it  and  the  river.  The  water  drawn  from  this  canal,  after 
turning  the  wheels  of  the  different  mills,  falls  in  numerous  cascades 
down  the  bank  in  reaching  the  lower  level.  A  great  power  is  thus 
wasted,  the  water,  in  some  cases,  being  capable  of  being  used  three 
different  times  before  it  attains  the  level  of  the  stream  below  the 
fall.  With  the  exception  of  one  flour-mill,  there  is  no  manufactur- 
ing establishment  on  the  opposite  bank,  which  is  owned  in  common 
by  the  mill  owners  on  the  left  side  of  the  river,  and  which  cannot 
be  either  sold  or  leased  for  manufacturing  purposes  of  any  kind, 
without  the  consent,  of  all.  There  is  a  double  purpose  to  be  served 
by  this  arangement — to  keep  down  competition,  and  to  prevent  too 
large  a  draught  upon  the  water-power  afforded  by  the  river,  which 
sometimes,  during  the  protracted  heats  of  summer,  becomes  so  low 
as  for  a  few  weeks  scarcely  to  supply  sufficient  motive  power  for  the 
establishments  on  the  left  bank.  But  from  the  rapids  above  the 
upper,  to  the  end  of  those  below  the  lower  falls,  the  volume  of  the 
Genesee  is  capable  of  being  used  by  different  groups  of  mills  and 
factories,  ten  times  over,  before  it  reaches  the  level  of  Lake  Ontario. 
As  yet,  it  is  only  the  upper  fall,  with  the  rapids  above  it,  that  has 
been  turned  extensively  to  account. 

At  Lockport,  manufactures  have  taken  a  different  turn  from  that 
which  they  have  as  yet  mainly  taken  at<  Rochester.  At  the  former 
place  cloths  of  different  kinds  form  the  chief  product  of  the  mills. 
The  coarse  cotton  fabric,  which  is  known  as  Lockport  Factory,  has 
attained  a  very  wide  celebrity,  and  is  extensively  consumed,  not  only 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  271 

on  the  American  side  of  the  lakes,  but  also  in  Canada.  It  is  a 
heavy-bodied  fabric,  and  competes  successfully  not  only  with  English 
products  of  a  similar  texture,  but  also  with  those  of  New  England. 
New  York  also  manufactures  paper  to  a  great  extent.  The  whole 
amount  of  manufacturing  capital  employed  by  her,  must  now  be 
above  sixty  millions  of  dollars.  This,  however,  is  employed  in  the 
most  miscellaneous  productions,  the  amount  invested  in  manufac- 
tures, in  the  ordinary  sense  of  the  term,  being  much  less  in  New 
York  than  in  Massachusetts. 

About  fifteen  miles  from  the  city  New  York,  stands  the  manu- 
facturing town  of  Paterson  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey.  It  is 
beautifully  situated  upon  the  banks  of  the  Passaic  River,  a  little 
below  the  Falls  of  Passaic,  where  the  river  takes  a  perpendicular 
plunge  of  about  seventy-two  feet.  A  canal  from  the  upper  level 
supplies  the  town  with  the  water-power  which  it  uses,  a  power  which 
has  as  yet  been  but  partially  turned  to  account.  There  are  a  few 
woollen  factories  in  Paterson,  but  its  chief  product  is  in  the  form  of 
cotton  fabrics  of  different  textures,  the  number  of  cotton-mills  being 
about  twenty,  having  nearly  50,000  spindles  at  work  amongst  them. 
The  capital  invested  in  manufactures  of  all  kinds  in  the  town, 
amounts  to  about  two  millions  of  dollars.  The  town  which  ranks 
next  in  this  State,  in  point  of  importance,  as  regards  miscellaneous 
manufacture,  is  Newark,  about  nine  miles  from  New  York.  At 
Trenton  much  paper  is  made.  The  total  amount  of  capital  now 
employed  in  manufactures  in  the  State  of  New  Jersey,  is  but  little 
under  thirteen  millions  of  dollars. 

As  regards  manufacturing  in  its  ordinary  acceptation,  Pennsylva- 
nia falls  considerably  behind  both  Massachusetts  and  New  York. 
But  if  we  take  the  amount  of  capital  invested  in  industrial  pursuits 
of  all  kinds  in  Pennsylvania,  exclusive  of  commerce,  and  inclusive 
not  only  of  her  mining  operations,  but  also  of  the  amount  of  money 
invested  in  the  construction  of  public  works,  with  a  view  chiefly  to 
rendering  available  her  enormous  mineral  resources,  that  State,  if  she 
does  not  take  the  lead  of  all,  will  certainly  fall  behind  none  other 
in  the  Confederacy.  No  less  than  thirty-four  millions  of  dolfars  have 
been  invested  in  canals  and  railways,  chiefly  designed  to  facilitate  the 
transportation  of  coal  from  the  vast  coal  fields  of  the  State  to  tide- 
water. As  far  back  as  1840,  Pennsylvania  possessed  upwards  of  100 
cotton  factories,  working  amongst  them  about  150,000  spindles. 
But  it  is  evident,  when  we  consider  the  character  of  her  resources, 
that  the  manufactures  of  this  State  will  not,  for  some  time  to  come 
at  least,  enter  very  seriously  into  competition  with  those  of  New 
England.  The  product  which  will  chiefly  spring  from  the  manu- 
facturing energy  of  Pennsylvania,  will  be  iron,  in  every  shape  in 
which  it  can  be  produced.  She  has  got  the  ore  in  abundance  in  her 
hills  and  mountains,  and  the  fuel  in  equal  abundance  required  to 


272  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

convert  it  to  practical  purposes.  The  amount  of  capital  now  em- 
ployed in  industrial  pursuits  in  Pennsylvania,  exclusive  of  that 
invested  in  works  mainly  designed  for  the  development  of  the  vast 
.mineral  resources  of  the  State,  is  about  forty  millions  of  dollars. 

The  amount  of  manufacturing  capital  employed  by  the  little  State 
of  Delaware,  is  about  a  million  and  a  half  of  dollars,  of  which  nearly 
one-fourth  is  invested  in  cotton  factories,  there  being  eleven  in  the 
State,  with  nearly  25,000  spindles  amongst  them. 

I  do  not  stop  here  to  inquire  whether  slavery  has  had  anything  to 
do  with  the  retardation  of  Maryland  in  regard  to  manufactures  or 
not,  but  certain  it  is  that  she  has  not  turned  her  opportunities  to  the 
same  account  as  so  many  of  her  northern  sisters  have  done  with 
theirs.  She  is  not  only  abundantly  supplied  with  water-power  both 
by  the  Potomac  and  the  Patapsco,  but  both  these  streams  present  her 
with  available  water-power,  close  to  tide-water.  At  Harper's  Ferry, 
the  power  offered  by  the  rapids  of  the  Potomac,  both  to  Maryland 
and.  Virginia — for  it  runs  between  the  two  States — is  immense; 
whilst  about  fifteen  miles  from  Washington  the  falls  of  the  river 
afford  them  both,  in  almost  inexhaustible  supply,  this  great  element 
of  manufacturing  industry.  But  both  States  seemed  content  to  sleep 
over  their  opportunities  until  the  adventurous  spirit  of  northern 
enterprise  led  parties  from  the  North  to  purchase  the  property  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  falls.  It  has  since,  as  already  mentioned,  been 
laid  out  into  land  and  water  lots,  with  the  no  very  happy  baptism  of 
South  Lowell.  The  advantages  of  its  site  will,  therefore,  not  go 
much  longer  unimproved.  In  addition  to  this  there  are  available 
rapids  on  the  Potomac  at  Georgetown,  close  to  Washington  and  tide 
water,  as  there  are  also  on  the  Patapsco,  about  ten  miles  above  Balti- 
more. The  valley  of  this  latter  river  is  the  chief  seat  of  Maryland 
manufacture.  About  twenty  miles  above  Baltimore  are  several 
cotton,  woollen,  and  flouring  establishments;  whilst  some  distance 
lower  down  the  river  are  iron-works  and  rolling-mills  on  a  large 
scale.  At  the  latter  railway  iron  is  now  rolled  in  great  quantities. 
There  are  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  cotton  factories  in  the  State, 
\vhilst  the  capital  employed  in  manufactures  of  all  kinds  is  below 
eight  millions  of  dollars. 

Virginia  is  also  backward  in  the  business  of  manufacture,  as 
compared  with  what  she  might  have  done  in  this  respect.  She  has 
a  bountiful  share  of  the  water-power  common  to  all  the  Atlantic 
States.  It  is  chiefly  at  Richmond,  her  capital,  that  she  has  as  yet 
taken  advantage  of  it,  the  manufactures  of  which  have  already  been 
alluded  to.  Her  cotton  factories  do  not  exceed  in  number  two 
dozen;  the  spindles  which  they  have  amongst  them  not  amounting 
to  50,000.  Flour  and  tobacco  figure  largely  amongst  the  articles  of 
manufacture  produced  by  this  State.  The  total  amount  of  the  manu- 
facturing capital  of  Virginia  does  not  exceed  twelve  millions  of 
dollars. 


THE    WESTERN  WORLD.  273 

Every  effort  has  lately  been  made  by  the  North  to  infuse  a 
manufacturing  spirit  into  the  Virginians.  Not  that  it  was  desirous 
of  rearing  up  any  formidable  opposition  to  itself  in  the  South,  but 
that,  by  rendering  Virginia  a  manufacturing  State,  the  North  would 
secure  her  vote  on  all  questions  affecting  protection  to  home  fabrics, 
an  accession  of  strength  which  would  render  it  irresistible  in  the 
national  councils.  But  the  Virginians  are  in  this  respect  inert 
materials  to  work  upon,  arid  the  North  will  find  it  more  to  its  pur- 
pose to  transfer  a  portion  of  its  capital  to  the  banks  of  the  James 
River  and  the  Potomac,  than  to  confine  itself  to  stimulating  the 
Virginians  to  manufacturing  enterprise.  Indeed  this  is  being  already 
done;  many  Northerners  having  already  entered  Virginia,  with  a 
view  to  turning  its  vast  and  long-neglected  resources  to  account; 
and  it  is  not  unlikely  that,  ere  long,  Richmond  will  be  doubled  in 
size,  wealth,  and  importance,  by  the  influx  of  northern  capital  to  the 
banks  of  the  James.  The  Northerner  has  an  additional  inducement 
to  the  adventure,  in  the  fact  that  free,  has  been  found  more  profitable 
in  the  business  of  manufacture  than  slave  labour,  even  in  Virginia 
herself.  The  experiment  has  been  tried  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  Richmond.  One  of  the  large  factories  on  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river  is  entirely  worked  by  white  operatives,  and  the  result  has 
told  against  the  system  of  employing  slave  labour  in  the  factory.  I 
was  interested,  considering  the  latitude  in  which  I  then  was,  to  see, 
on  the  dinner-bell  ringing,  crowds  of  white  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren emerging  from  the  factory,  as  if  it  had  been  in  Paterson  or 
Lowell,  instead  of  in  sight  of  Richmond.  It  speaks  volumes  of  the 
want  of  enterprise  which  characterises  the  Virginians,  that  although 
one  of  the  finest  bituminous  coal-beds  in  the  Union,  both  on  account 
of  its  supply  and  its  availability,  is  within  a  few  miles  from  their 
capital,  it  is  worked  by  an  English  company.  The  largest  iron-work 
in  the  town  is  worked  by  Welshmen,  whilst  Scotchmen  are,  or  till 
very  lately  have  been,  the  chief  merchants  of  the  place. 

The  manufactures  of  North  Carolina  are,  and  ever  have  been,  on 
a  limited  scale — coarse  cotton  cloth,  designed  for  negro  wear,  being 
the  chief  product  of  her  mills,  which  are  upwards  of  twenty  in 
number,  with  nea'rly  50,000  spindles.  The  whole  capital  employed 
by  her  in  the  business  of  manufacture  falls  under  four  millions  of 
dollars. 

South  Carolina  employs  about  the  same  amount  of  capital  in  a 
similar  way,  her  chief  product  in  the  shape  of  manufacture  being  also 
the  coarse  Osnaburg  cloth,  in  which  the  negroes  are  almost  exclu- 
sively clad.  It  is  generally  made  of  the  roughest  part  of  the  cotton 
crop,  such  indeed  as  cannot  be  exported  ;  and  as  the  quantity  of  the 
raw  material  that  enters  into  it  is  great,  as  well  as  its  quality  inferior, 
the  New  England  looms  cannot  compete  in  the  Southern  markets 
with  this  domestic  fabric.  The  factories  of  South  Carolina,  which 


274  THE  WESTERN   WORLD. 

are  all  on  a  small  scale,  also  produce  a  considerable  quantity  of  yarn. 
There  are  likewise  about  half  a-ddzen  iron  factories  in  the  State. 
Those  engaged  iu  the  production  of  cotton  yarn  and  coarse  cloths 
are  not  so  profitable  as  they  were  some  years  back,  but  still  return  a 
larger  per-centage  upon  the  capital  employed  than  is  realized  by  those 
who  are  occupied  in  the  production  of  the  great  staples  of  the  State. 
The  factories  of  South  Carolina  are  chiefly  confined  to  its  midland 
district,  which  is  intersected  by  the  ridge  of  low  sand  hills  already 
alluded  to,  from  which  a  never-failing  supply  of  water  is  procured. 

The  State  of  Georgia  comes  next  in  order.  It  has  about  twenty 
cotton  factories,  producing  yarns  and  negro  clothing.  The  amount 
of  capital  employed  in  these  and  other  factories  is  about  three  mil- 
lions of  dollars.  The  profitable  character  of  the  coarse  cotton 
manufactures  of  the  South  maybe  appreciated  from  the  fact,  that  the 
Richmond  factory,  in  Georgia,  established  by  a  joint-stock  company 
in  1833,  averaged,  down  to  1844,  an  annual  profit  of  18  per  cent., 
and  for  two  years  afterwards  25  per  cent.  Again,  the  Columbus 
factory,  established  in  1834,  paid  nothing  for  the  first  four  years,  the 
parties  managing  it  being  confessedly  wanting  in  skill  and  expe- 
rience. Since  1838,  however,  it  has  well  made  up  for  the  want  of 
profits  for  these  years,  the  average  profits  since  that  year  having  been 
20  per  cent.  The  Roswell  factory  has  also  paid  20  per  cent,  since 
1839,  the  date  of  its  establishment. 

In  Alabama,  similar  establishments  have  netted  25  per  cent,  profit, 
after  allowing  for  bad  debts.  The  capital  employed  in  manufactures 
in  this  State  is  about  three  millions  of  dollars. 

Ths  cotton  manufactures  of  the  State  of  Mississippi  are  almost  too 
insignificant  to  notice.  The  State  applies  about  two  millions  of 
dollars  to  the  purposes  of  miscellaneous  manufacture. 

The  manufacturing  enterprise  of  Louisiana  is  principally  applied 
to  the  production  of^ugar,  which  is  its  great  and  most  profitable  pro- 
duct, ft  has  almost  entirely  abandoned  the  growth  of  cotton  for  the 
cultivation  of  the  cane.  The  capital  invested  in  it  in  manufactures 
is  about  eight  millions  of  dollars. 

Florida  is  yet  destined  to  be  the  active  rival  of  Louisiana  in 
the  production  of  the  cane  and  the  manufacture  of  sugar.  But 
as  yet  every  interest  is,  in  that  State,  like  the  State  itself,  in  its 
infancy. 

The  total  amount  of  capital  now  employed  for  the  purposes  of 
manufacture,  including  that  of  articles  of  every  kind,  in  the  different 
States  in  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi,  exclusive  of  the  States  of 
Mississippi  and  Louisiana,  is  fully  forty-five  millions  of  dollars.  Of 
this  aggregate  amount,  Ohio  employs  the  largest  share^  the  capital 
invested  in  manufactures  in  that  State  alone  being  eighteen  millions. 
Kentucky  comes  next,  with  a  capital  of  six  millions.  Indiana  fol- 
lows with  five  millions,  and  Tennessee  arid  Illinois  comes  next, 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  275 

each  with  about  four;  Michigan  and  Missouri  follow,  with  about  three 
millions  and  a  half  and  three  millions  respectively;  and  they  are 
followed  by  Wisconsin  with  about  700,000  dollars;  Arkansas  with 
about  500,000  ;  and  Iowa  with  scarcely  200,000.  These  last,  how- 
ever, are,  like  Florida,  as  yet  infant  States,  their  different  interests 
having  scarcely  had  time  to  take  a  definite  shape  since  their  admis- 
sion into  the  Union. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that,  in  its  diversified  phases,  the  industrial,  as 
contradistinguished  from  the  agricultural  interest,  has  widely,  if  not 
universally,  established  itself  in  America.  The  chief  seats  of  manu- 
facture, however,  are  to  be  found  in  New  England,  and  in  the  States 
of  New  York,  New  Jersey,  Pennsylvania,  and  Ohio.  We  may  also 
here  include  Maryland  and  Virginia.  Manufactures  have  as  yet 
taken  but  a  slender  hold  of  the  bulk  of  the  valley  of  the  Mississippi, 
or  of  the  States  south  of  Chesapeake  Bay  on  the  Atlantic,  and  those 
on  the  Mexican  Gulf.  But  it  is  their  ubiquity  that  gives  such  homo- 
geneity to  the  protective  principle  in  America.  Were  they  confined 
to  the  Northern  section  of  the  Union,  and  the  cultivation  of  the  raw 
material  were  alone  the  occupation  of  the  South,  we  might  expect 
to  find  the  free-trade  and  protectionist  parties  separated  from  each 
other  by  a  geographical  line.  But  they  are  not  so  confined;  and 
small  though  the  manufacturing  interest  as  yet  is,  in  point  of  num- 
bers and  capital  employed,  in  such  States  as  North  and  South 
Carolina,  Georgia,  Alabama,  and  Mississippi,  and  almost  all  the 
States  in  the  valley,  it  manages,  in  conjunction  with  party  predilec- 
tions, to  ^give  the  protectionists  a  good  footing  even  in  the  States 
whose  chief  business  is  the  production  of  the  great  staple  of  the 
South.  Thus  there  is  many  a  Whig  in  the  South  who  might  not 
be  a  protectionist,  but  for  the  presence  in  his  own  State  of  an  in- 
terest to  protect,  at  the  same  time  that  the  pressure  of  that  interest 
upon  him  may  be  so  small,  the  interest  itself  being  comparatively  so, 
that  but  ior  being  a  Whig  he  would  not  yield  to  it.  It  is  the  two 
combined  that  throw  him  into  the  arms  of  the  Northern  capitalists, 
running  counter,  as  he  does,  in  every  vote  which  he  gives  in  their 
favour,  to  the  general  interests  of  the  South.  The  Southern  Whigs 
feel  this  double  pressure  upon  them,  that  of  party  and  that  of  a  local 
manufacturing  interest,  very  irksome  and  injurious  to  them  politi- 
cally ;  and  there  are  not  a  few  of  them  who  would  joyfully  accept  of 
a  final  settlement  of  the  tariff  question,  even  were  it  of  the  most 
ultra  free-trade  kind,  provided  it  were  only  final. 

The  following  statements  will  serve  to  show  the  distribution  of 
manufacturing  capital  arid  energy  throughout  the  United  States.  I 
take  the  figures  from  Mr.  M'Gregor's  invaluable  work,  entitled 
"  The  Progress  of  America,"  to  which  I  am  indebted  for  many  of  the 
statistical  illustrations  with  which  I  have  endeavoured  to  show  how 
rapid  has  been  the  industrial  development  of  the  Union.  In  1840, 


276  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

the  total  capital  invested  in  manufactures  throughout  the  United 
States  was  close  upon  2(38,000,000  of  dollars.  Of  this  aggregate 
amount  New  York  alone  employed  from  55,000,000  to  56,000,000, 
Massachusetts  42,000,000,  and  Pennsylvania  32,000,000,  in  round 
numbers.  Next  in  order  came  Ohio,  with  from  16,000,000  to 
17,000,000  invested  in  manufacture ;  after  which  followed  Con- 
necticut with  14,000,000,  New  Jersey  and  Virginia  with  from 
11,000,000  to  12,000,000  each,  New  Hampshire  with  10,000,000, 
and  Maine  with  upwards  of  7,000,000.  It  is  unnecessary  to  pursue 
the  comparison  further.  From  this  it  will  be  seen,  that  as  regards 
capital  invested  in  manufacture  in  its  most  extensive  signification, 
New  York  took  the  lead,  being  followed  by  Massachusetts,  Penn- 
sylvania, Ohio,  Connecticut,  New  Jersey  and  Virginia.  And  this 
is,  perhaps,  the  order  in  which  they  still  range,  each  State  having 
undoubtedly  added  largely  to  its  capital  during  the  eight  years  that 
have  intervened.  But  if  we  take  the  term  "  manufactures"  in  its 
stricter  and  more  limited  acceptation,  we  find  that  the  order  in 
which  the  States  follow  each  other  is  greatly  changed. 

Let  us  see  how  the  case  stands  with  regard  to  cotton  manufactures. 
The  total  capital  invested  in  this  branch  of  industry,  in  1840,  was 
from  51,000,000  to  52,000,000,  about  one-fifth  of  the  total  capital 
invested  in  manufactures  generally.  Of  this  aggregate  amount,  from 
17,000,000  to  18,000,000  belonged  to  Massachusetts  alone,  from 
7,000,000  to  8,000,000  to  Rhode  Island,  nearly  6,000,000  to  New 
Hampshire,  about  5,000,000  only  to  New  York,  and  from  3,000,000 
to  4,000,000  to  Pennsylvania.  New  York,  which  took  the  lead  in 
the  other  case,  is  here  only  fourth  in  the  scale,  the  order  in  which 
the  States  stand,  in  reference  to  the  amount  of  capital  respectively 
employed  by  them  in  the  manufacture  of  cotton  being  Massachusetts, 
Rhode  Island,  New  Hampshire,  New  York,  Pennsylvania,  &c.  As 
regards  the  capital  employed  in  the  manufacture  of  woollen  goods, 
the  order  is  again*  .changed,  Massachusetts,  however,  still  retaining 
the  lead.  The  total  amount  of  capital  invested,  in  1840,  in  this 
branch  of  manufacture  was,  in  round  numbers,  16,000,000  of  dollars. 
Massachusetts  owned  upwards  of  one-fourth  of  the  whole,  New  York 
a  little  more  than  one-fifth,  Connecticut  about  an  eighth,  and  Penn- 
sylvania scarcely  one  eleventh.  The.value  of  goods  produced  during 
the  year  was  nearly  21,000,000  of  dollars,  the  different  States  pro- 
ducing pretty  much  in  the  proportion  of  the  capital  employed  by 
them.  The  value  of  the  cotton  goods  produced  during  the  same 
year  was  but  a  little  above  46,000,000. 

The  total  amount  of  capital  invested  in  manufactures  of  all  kinds 
in  1848.  was  very  nearly  350,000,000  of  dollars,  being  an  increase 
of  nearly  100,000,000  of  dollars,  or  ab'out  40  per  cent,  in  eight  years. 
The  capital  invested  in  cotton  manufactures  last  year  amounted  to 
about  64,000,000,  being  an  increase  of  about  12,000,000,  or  about 


THE  'WESTERN    WORLD.  277 

25  per  cent,  during  the  same  period.  This  does  not  look  as  if  the 
tariff  of  1846  was  destructive  to  the  American  manufacturing  inter- 
est. There  was  employed  during  the  same  year  in  leather  manufac- 
tures no  less  than  33,000,000  of  dollars.  The  value  of  cotton  goods 
produced  in  1848  was  close  upon  58,000,000  of  dollars,  being  an 
increase  of  about  12,000,000,  or  about  27  per  cent.,  upon  the  pro- 
duction of  1840.  The  increase  in  the  production  of  woollen  goods 
has  not  been  so  great;  still  the  gross  produce  is  greater  than  in  1840. 
The  quantity  of  leather  manufactured  last  year  in  the  United  States 
is  valued  at  42,000,000. 

It  was  not  until  after  the  revolutionary  war  that  the  cotton  manu- 
factures of  America  made  any  decided  progress.  All  efforts  at  their 
establishment  previously  to  that  period  had  been,  more  or  less,  fail- 
ures. Since  1790,  however,  they  slowly  progressed  until  1816,  after 
which  they  became  very  rapidly  developed,  having  increased  about 
sixteeri-fold  between  that  year  and  1844.  The  chief  exports  of 
American  cotton  goods  have  been  to  the  American  markets.  The 
export  trade  of  the  fabric  has  exhibited  the  most  violent  fluctuations. 
The  exports,  in  this  particular,  to  Mexico  have  fallen  off  greatly  since 
1839.  During  that  year  the  Mexican  markets  absorbed  the  white 
and  coloured  goods  of  the  Union  to  the  value  of  1,335,000  dollars, 
whereas,  in  1843,  the  importation  of  American  cottons  of  all  kinds 
into  Mexico  did  riot  exceed  in  value  198,000  dollars.  The  exports 
to  Central  America  have  also  fluctuated  very  much,  amounting  as 
they  did  in  1840  to  nearly  three  times  as  much  as  in  1843.  The 
trade  with  Chili,  during  the  same  period,  also  exhibited  a  decrease. 
Until  1841,  that  with  Brazil  steadily  increased,  but  declined  from 
that  year  to  1813.  The  same  fluctuation  is  discernible  if  we  take 
the  aggregate  exports  of  cotton  goods  from  1820  to  1843.  They 
were  higher  in  1831  than  in  1843.  It  was  in  1841  that  they 
reached  the  highest  point,  being  then  in  value  from  12,000,000  to 
13,000,000  of  dollars.  In  1^42  they  declined  to  a  little  over 
9,000,000,  and  in  1843  to  below  7,000,000. 

The  woollen  manufactures  of  America  have  progressed  but  slowly 
as  compared  with  those  of  cotton.  They  are  almost  exclusively 
produced  for  home  consumption,  the  quantity  of  woollen  goods  ex- 
ported being  exceedingly  small. 

The  manufacture  of  silk  has  also  made  considerable  progress  in 
the  United  States.  Some  years  ago  there  was  a  great  deal  of  specu- 
lation in  connexion  with  this  branch  of  industry.  Millions  of  dollars 
were  invested  in  mulberry  trees,  with  a  view  to  the  culture  of  silk, 
the  belief  having  taken  possession  of  the  public  mind  that  the  silk- 
worm could  be  reared  in  America  from  Maine  to  Georgia.  The 
mania  did  not  last  long,  but  much  money  was  lost  during  its  preva- 
lence. Since  that  time  the  silk  manufacture  of  America  has  re- 
mained almost  stationary,  having  enjoyed  for  some  years  afterwards 

VOL.  II.— 24 


278  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

rather  a  bad  reputation.  The  State  of  Ohio  produces  a  good  deal  of 
silk,  specimens  of  which  I  have  frequently  seen.  It  is,  as  may  well 
be  supposed,  a  very  inferior  article,  and  it  will  be  long  ere  America 
produces  any  silk  fabrics  to  which  a  more  flattering  epithet  can  be 
applied. 

The  iron  manufactures  of  America  have  already  been  cursorily 
alluded  to,  in  treating  of  the  mining  interests  of  Pennsylvania.  The 
total  capital  invested  in  connexion  with  the  working  of  iron,  includ- 
ing mining,  casting,  forging,  &c.,  is  upwards  of  25,000,000  of  dol- 
lars. In  lead,  more  than  2,500,000  are  invested,  which  capital  is 
chiefly  employed  in  working  the  mines  at  Galena. 

Paper  forms  a  not  unimportant  item  in  the  sum  total  of  American 
manufactures.  The  capital  employed  in  producing  it  is  upwards  of 
5,000,000. 

In  the  manufacture  of  flour  and  oil,  and  in  the  sawing  of  timber, 
upwards  of  75,000,000  of  dollars  are  invested.  The  number  of  bar- 
rels produced  per  annum  by  the  different  flouring-mills  in  the  coun- 
try, is  from  8,000,000  to  9,000,000.  The  mills  themselves  are  nearly 
5,000  in  number ;  whilst  of  saw-mills  there  are  upwards  of  30,000 
in  the  United  States.  • 

In  estimating  the  manufacturing  facilities  possessed  by  the  United 
States,  many  put  foremost  in  the  catalogue  its  almost  infinite  water- 
power.  But  there  are  others  who  believe  that,  for  factories  produc- 
ing most  classes  of  goods,  steam,  where  it  can  be  generated  at  little 
cost,  is  preferable  to  water-power.  This  may  be  all  very  true  as 
regards  very  large  mills,  requiring  heat  for  certain  processes,  which 
heat  may  be  obtained  from  the  steam  after  it  has  served  its  purpose 
in  driving  the  machinery  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  but  for  the  water- 
power  in  which  the  country  abounds,  the  great  bulk  of  the  small 
factories  occupying  remote  positions  would  not  have  had  an  exist- 
ence. Steam,  even  in  the  most  favourable  localities  for  generating 
it,  may  be  more  expensive  than  water  as  a  simple  motive  power ;  but 
there  is  this  in  favour  of  steam,  that  the  factory  employing  it  can  be 
built  where  everything  required  about  an  establishment  of  the  kind 
may  be  had  readily  and  cheaply.  There  are  many  factories  now 
employing  steam  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  good  available  water- 
power.  One  of  the  largest  manufacturing  establishments  in  America, 
that  known  as  the  Gloucester  Mills,  situated  on  the  New  Jersey 
bank  of  the  Delaware,  a  Jittle  below  Philadelphia,  employs  steam  as 
its  motive  power.  It  is  the  consideration,  that  even  in  America, 
where  water-power  is  so  abundant,  steam  may  be  advantageously 
employed  in  the  business  of  manufacture,  that  leads  one  to  anticipate 
for  Philadelphia,  which  is  so  favourably  situated  for  a  supply  of  coal, 
the  destiny  of  being  yet  the  greatest  manufacturing  emporium  of 
the  continent. 

But  enough  has  been  said  to  show  how  extensive  and  varied  is  the 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  279 

manufacturing  interest  of  the  Union.  It  is  an  interest  which  has  in 
itself  all  the  essential  elements  of  progression;  and  which  will  yet, 
in  its  onward  course,  attain  a  momentum  which  will  enable  it  to 
dispense  with  the  adventitious  props  for  which  it  is  now  so  clamorous 
in  the  way  of  protection.  The  germ  has  been,  as  yet,  but  laid  of 
the  manufacturing  system  which  is  destined  to  permeate  America ; 
and  if  we  are  to  judge  of  its  future  progress  from  its  past  achieve- 
ments the  time  cannot  be  far  distant  ere  it  attains  a  colossal  mag- 
nitude. 

It  has,  therefore,  not  been  a  weak  interest  against  which  the 
agriculturists,  including  the  cotton-growers,  have  had  to  struggle. 
Not  that  the  manufacturers  are  as  strong  in  point  either  of  numbers 
or  of  capital  as  the  agriculturists,  but  they  are  combined  and  work 
together ;  whereas  the  agriculturists  generally  exhibit  a  want  of  com- 
bination and  of  a  common  understanding  with  one  another,  when  it 
is  most  important  for  them  to  have  both.  Not  a  little  of  the  political 
success  of  the  manufacturers  is  attributable  to  their  superior  shrewd- 
ness, adroitness,  and  perseverance.  If  the  two  classes  are  measured 
by  the  extent  of  their  interests,  the  agriculturists  will  be  found  to 
eclipse  their  rivals.  In  the  six  States  of  New  England,  together  with 
New  York,  Pennsylvania,  New  Jersey,  Delaware,  and  Maryland,  this 
is  certainly  not  the  case,  the  value  of  the  annual  manufactures  of 
these  States  considerably  exceeding  the  value  of  their  annual  agri- 
cultural produce.  But  if  we  take  the  remaining  nineteen  States  of 
the  Union,  the  value  of  their  agricultural  produce  so  far  exceeds 
that  of  their  manufactures,  that,  taking  all  the  States  together,  the 
balance  in  point  of  interest  is  largely  with  the  agriculturists.  Thus 
the  crops  produced  last  year  by  the  States  first  named,  amounted  in 
value  to  about  216,000,000  of  dollars.  Their  gross  manufactures 
are  valued  at  252,000,000.  This  leaves  a  balance  of  upwards  of 
30,000,000  in  favour  of  the  manufacturer.  But  in  the  other  States 
the  crops  produced  are  valued  at  356,000,000,  whereas  the  value  of 
their  manufactures  does  not  exceed  90,000,000.  This  leaves  a 
balance  of  upwards  of  260,000,000  in  favour  of  the  agriculturist. 
The  value  of  the  whole  crop  of  the  Union  is  thus  above  560,000,000, 
that  of  its  gross  manufactured  products  a  little  above  340,000,000, 
leaving,  on  the  whole,  a  balance  in  favour  of  the  agriculturist  of 
no  less  than  220,000,000.  In  addition  to  this,  the  value  of  agri- 
cultural exports  far  exceeds  that  of  manufactured  articles  exported. 
In  1840  the  value  of  all  the  exports  of  the  Union  did  not  exceed 
113,000,000  of  dollars.  Of  this  sum  no  less  than  92,000,000  re- 
presented the  value  of  agricultural  products  exported.  Last  year,  the 
value  of  the  aggregate  exports  reached  the  enormous  amount  of 
154,000,000.  Of  this  a  still  larger  proportion  was  the  value,  ex- 
clusively, of  agricultural  productions.  Whatever  maybe  the  fate  of 
the  export  trade  as  regards  manufactures,  that  in  connexion  with 


280  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

produce  is  destined  largely  and  rapidly  to  increase.  It  is  therefore 
the  great  source  of  wealth  to  the  country.  It  seems  singular,  there- 
fore, that  the  agricultural  interest  should  have  suffered  itself  to  be  so 
frequently  sacrificed  to  its  less  important  rival.  But  the  dazzling 
vision  of  an  "  American  system,"  with  national  self-dependence, 
sufficed  for  a  long  time  to  mislead  the  agricultural  mind  as  to  its 
true  interests. 

I  have  observed,  in  a  previous  chapter,  that  the  interests  of  the 
commercial  classes  are  as  much  identified  with  free  trade  as  are  those 
of  the  agriculturists.  To  this  the  commercial  classes  in  Boston 
certainly  offer  an  exception,  and  this  exception  has  been  frequently 
forced  upon  the  farmers  as  a  proof  that  all  classes  in  the  community 
had  a  common  interest  in  a  high  tariff — in  other  words,  in  protection. 
It  is  quite  true  that  the  leading  merchants  in  Boston  generally  side 
with  the  manufacturers;  but  it  would  be  erroneous  thence  to  infer 
that  the  commercial  classes  of  the  Union  are  identified  with  them 
either  in  feeling  or  in  interest.  The  leading  Boston  merchants  are 
peculiarly  situated,  either  having  themselves  shares  in  the  manu- 
facturing establishments  at  Lowell  and  elsewhere,  or  having  fathers, 
mothers,  brothers,  sisters,  aunts  or  uncles  that  have.  They  are  thus 
more  or  less  in  the  same  boat  with  the  manufacturers;  and  the  same 
may  indeed  be  said  of  the  agricultural  classes  of  the  State  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, who  are  extensively  employed  during  the  winter,  as 
already  intimated,  in  the  rather  incongruous  occupation  of  making 
boots  and  shoes.  This  enables  Massachusetts  to  exhibit  a  wonder- 
ful unanimity  on  the  subject  of  protection,  farmers,  manufacturers, 
merchants,  and  ship-owners  all  appearing  to  clamour  for  it.  This 
seeming  identity  of  interest  has  imposed  not  a  little  upon  the  farmers 
elsewhere,  who  did  not  take  into  account  the  peculiar  position  of 
parties  in  Massachusetts. 

A  remarkable  exception  in  this  respect  to  the  majority  of  the 
leading  merchants  of  Boston  was  presented  in  the  person  of  Mr. 
Peter  T.  Homer,  himself  for  a  long  time  extensively  engaged  in  that 
city  as  an  importer  on  a  large  scale.  He  was  fortunately  untram- 
melled by  any  connexion  with  the  manufacturers,  which,  combined 
with  his  quick  perception  and  strong  good  sense,  enabled  him  to 
take  a  clear  and  unbiassed  view  of  the  general  interests.  He  was 
an  ardent  free-trader,  and  on  retiring  from  business,  went  through 
the  country,  doing  everything  in  his  power  to  disseminate  his  views. 
In  1846,  when  the  tariff  bill  was  under  discussion,  he  procured  the 
use  of  one  of  the  committee-rooms  of  the  capitol,  in  which  to  ex- 
hibit rival  patterns  of  British  and  American  manufacture.  He  put 
patterns  of  equal  texture  together,  showing  the  difference  between 
their  prices;  and  patterns  of  equal  price  together,  showing  that  be- 
tween their  textures.  Partly  to  neutralize  the  effect  produced  by 
this  exhibition,  which  was  anything  but  favourable  to  the  pretensions 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  281 

of  the  American  manufacturer,  and  partly  to  overawe  Congress  by  a 
great  practical  argument,  which  they  hoped  would  have  more 
weight  than  those  of  a  mere  speculative  kind,  they  determined  on 
holding  their  ordinary  annual  fair  that  year  at  Washington.  Prepa- 
rations were  accordingly  made  on  a  most  extensive  scale  for  the  ex- 
hibition. A  temporary  wooden  building  was  erected  for  the  pur- 
pose, in  the  form  of  a  T,  its  area  being  about  double  that  of 
Guildhall.  To  this,  goods  of  all  kinds,  exclusively  the  produce  of 
domestic  industry,  were  forwarded.  In  the  course  of  about  ten  days 
it  was  filled  with  articles  of  different  descriptions,  and  thrown  open 
to  the  public.  The  display  was  imposing  in  the  extreme,  and  he 
would  be  as  bold  as  he  would  be  unfair  who  would  deny  that  it  was 
most  creditable  to  American  enterprise  and  skill.  But  it  failed  in 
producing  the  desired  effect.  As  regarded  some,  it  had  the  contrary 
effect  to  that  intended  to  be  produced,  for  they  thought  that  an  industry 
which  produced  such  excellent  fruit  required  no  protection  to  enable 
it  to  maintain  its  ground.  Congress  was  neither  over-awed  nor  con- 
vinced— the  tariff  bill  passed,  and  shortly  afterwards  the  manufactures 
of  the  country  had  to  submit  to  competition.  Bands  of  music  at- 
tended at  the  exhibition,  and  everything  was  done  to  render  it  as 
attractive  as  possible.  At  one  time  it  was  intended  to  bring  some 
of  the  factory  girls  from  Lowell  to  it,  as  specimens  of  native  pro- 
duce, but  the  intention  was  speedily  abandoned.  Multitudes  flocked 
from  all  parts  of  the  country  to  witness  the  Fair,  and  Washington 
was  literally  glutted  with  strangers.  This  admirably  served  the  pur- 
pose of  Mr.  Homer,  who  was  all  the  time  proceeding  with  his  quiet, 
unobtrusive,  but  rival  exhibition  in  the  capitol.  I  was  with  him  one 
day,  when  a  very  fiery  and  uncombed  young  man  entered,  and,  after 
fuming  about  for  some  time,  began  to  attack  Mr.  Homer  in  a  no  very 
courteous  manner  for  his  enmity  to  domestic  industry.  It  was  soon 
evident  that  he  regarded  him  as  a  European — in  fact,  as  an  inte- 
rested agent  of  the  English  manufacturer.  Mr.  Homer  put  him 
right  on  this  point,  informing  him  that  he  was  a  Bostonian  and  his 
fellow-countryman;  but  this,  instead  of  pacifying,  made  him  all  the 
more  furious.  It  was  quite  bad  enough  for  the  foreigner,  he  inti- 
mated, thus  to  beard  the  home  manufacturer  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
Union ;  but  for  a  native  to  do  it  was  something,  in  his  opinion, 
worse,  if  possible,  than  sacrilege. 

"I'm  Southerner,"  he  said  at  last,  bursting  into  a  fit  of  uncon- 
trollable passion,  "  and  I'll  make  the  Union  yet  ring  with  your 
name."  Having  said  this,  he  left  the  room,  and  repaired  to  the 
fountain  hard  by  to  cool  himself.  I  asked,  when  he  had  left,  what 
he  meant  by  saying  he  was  "Southerner:"  when  I  was  informed 
that  he  contributed  letters  to  some  Southern  newspaper,  under  that 
signature. 

When  the  American  manufacturers  talk  of  self-dependence  as 

24* 


282  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

the  proper  attitude  of  the  Republic,  do  they  mean  that  it  should  cut 
itself  off  from  all  commercial  intercourse  with  the  world  ?  Yet  this 
is  what  they  must  do  to  realise  their  dreams.  The  primary  con- 
dition to  mutual  trade  is  mutual  dependence.  If  America  can  be 
brought  to  a  point  at  which  she  will  want  nothing  from  the  rest  of 
the  world,  the  condition  will  be  wanting  to  her  trading  with  the 
rest  of  the  world.  Trade  cannot  be  all  on  one  side.  She  may  have 
much  to  give  way,  but  unless  she  takes  something,  the  produce  of 
others'  industry,  in  return  for  it,  she  cannot  dispose  of  it,  unless  she 
do  so  gratuitously.  And  should  this  self-dependence  ever  be 
attained,  and  this  national  isolation  secured,  what  will  become  of 
the  shipping  interest  and  the  national  marine  of  America?  Let 
the  Americans  remember  that  they  are  much  more  dependent  for 
the  manning  of  their  navy  upon  a  flourishing  commercial  marine 
than  we  are.  Indeed,  wages  for  civil  employments  are  so  high  in 
America,  that  this  is  the  only  source  to  which  they  have  to  look  for 
the  material  with  which  to  man  their  navy.  In  Europe  it  is  other- 
wise. The  condition  to  a  flourishing  commercial  marine  is  a 
flourishing  foreign  trade.  The  pivot  on  which  the  foreign  trade  of 
America  now  turns  is  its  export  of  cotton.  Let  the  manufacturers 
have  their  way,  and  this  trade  is  ruined. 

If  the  manufacturers  would  only  wait  patiently  for  the  denouement, 
that  which  they  are  so  anxious  to  precipitate  will,  in  all  probability, 
ere  long  unfold  itself  as  the  natural  result  of  the  progress  of  manu- 
factures in  America.  Their  water-power  is  inexhaustible,  their 
machinery  will  be  gradually  perfected,  their  skill  will  increase,  and 
the  cotton  will  continue  to  be  cultivated  almost  at  their  very  doors. 
The  only  condition  to  a  complete  monopoly  of  the  American 
market,  in  which  they  will  long  be  wanting,  is  cheap  labour.  But 
there  are  facilities  in  their  way  which,  if  properly  turned  to  account, 
may  more  than  compensate  them  for  continued  high  wages.  By 
attempting  to  realise  at  once  the  monopoly  which  appears  yet  to  be 
in  store  for  them,  they  bring  themselves  into  angry  collisions  with 
other  interests,  upon  the  development  of  which  they  trench,  by 
seeking  to  force  the  growth  of  their  own,  no  matter  at  what  cost  to 
the  country.  They  can  only  now  monopolize  the  home  market  at 
a  heavy  cost  to  every  other  branch  of  domestic  industry — in  other 
words,  they  can  only  protect  themselves  by  the  imposition  of  a 
heavy  tax  for  their  exclusive  benefit  upon  the  great  body  of  con- 
sumers. Protection  thus  cuts  both  ways.  It  injures  the  foreigner, 
and  also  the  domestic  consumer.  Between  the  two  parties  thus 
treated,  stands  the  protected  interest,  which  alone  receives  the 
benefit  of  the  false  policy  on  which  it  flourishes. 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  283 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AMERICAN    CHARACTER. PHYSICAL    CONDITION    OF    SOCIETY    IN 

AMERICA. 

The  American  Character  the  reverse  of  gloomy  and  morose. — Sensitiveness  of 
the  American  people.— Its  explanation  and  its  excuse. — The  Americans  more 
sensitive  at  home  than  abroad. — Why  they  are  so,  explained. — They  are  more 
boastful  abroad  than  they  are  at  home. — This  also  explained. — Allowances  to 
be  made. — The  American  has  cause  to  feel  proud  of  his  Country's  Progress. — 
The  national  feeling  in  America  resolves  itself  chiefly  into  a  love  of  Institu- 
tions.— Identification  of  the  American  with  his  political  system. — Impossibility 
of  the  establishment  of  Monarchy  in  the  United  States. — Stability  of  Democ- 
racy in  America — Monarchy  impossible,  even  in  Canada,  in  the  event  of  its 
separation  from  the  mother  country. — The  American's  faith  in  his  Country's 
Destiny. — Influence  of  this  on  his  feelings  and  character. — Feeling  cherished 

towards  England Love  of  titles  in  America. — Love  of  Money. — Fondness 

for  Dress.—  Physical  condition  of  society  in  America. 

MANY  Europeans  quit  the  shores  of  the  Republic  with  unfavour- 
able impressions  of  American  character,  in  the  broadest  acceptation 
of  the  term.  But  in  the  majority  of  instances,  those  who  do  so 
enter  the  country  with  pre-conceived  notions  of  it,  and  leave  it  ere 
they  have  learnt  to  discern  objects  through  the  right  medium.  The 
Americans  as  a  people,  for  instance,  are  characterised  by  some  as 
gloomy  and  reserved  ;  whereas,  if  properly  approached,  they  are 
frank,  communicative,  and  not  unfrequently  even  mercurial  in  their 
dispositions.  Any  one  who  has  mingled  much  in  American  society 
must  have  seen  that  gloom  was  far  from  being  its  predominant 
characteristic,  at  least  in  the  case  of  American  women.  If  they 
have  any  fault  in  this  respect  as  a  class,  it  is  not  that  of  coldness 
and  reserve,  but  of  over-vivaciousness,  and  a  tendency  to  the  frivo- 
lous and  amusing.  In  parts  of  the  country,  where  fanaticism  in 
religion  has  for  some  time  prevailed,  a  settled  gloom  may  be  dis- 
cerned on  the  majority  of  countenances;  but  it  does  not  so  much 
indicate  a  morose  spirit,  as  a  real  or  affected  habit  of  looking 
serious.  From  a  pretty  long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  Ame- 
rican society  in  most  of  its  phases,  I  can  confidently  say,  that  the 
traveller  who  finds  the  people  of  America  habitually  keeping  him 
at  a  distance,  and  otherwise  treating  him  coldly,  must  be  himself 
chiefly  to  blame  for  the  reception  which  he  experiences.  During 
my  peregrinations  through  the  Union — and  they  were  many  and 


284  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

long — I  had  frequent  opportunity  of  seeing  how  English  travellers 
demeaned  themselves  on  passing  through  the  country.  I  invariably 
found  that  those  who  met  the  Americans  frankly  and  ingenuously, 
were  treated  with  the  utmost  kindness  and  warmheartedness,  and 
were  consequently  favourably  impressed  with  the  character  of  the 
people;  whereas  such  as  travelled  through  the  country  as  if  it  were 
a  compliment  to  the  Republic  that  they  touched  its  democratic  soil, 
arid  as  if  the  mere  fact  of  their  being  Englishmen  entitled  them  to 
treat  all  who  came  in  their  way  with  ill-dissembled  hauteur  and  con- 
tumely, were  left  to  find  their  way  as  they  best  could,  the  cold 
shoulder  being  turned  to  them  wherever  they  went.  This  is  not 
done  from  any  feeling  of  vindictiveness  towards  them,  for  they  are 
generally  laughed  at  on  assuming  insolent  airs  and  demanding 
extra  attentions.  Those  who  will  not  treat  them  frankly,  the 
Americans  will  not  put  themselves  out  of  their  way  to  receive 
kindly,  nor  will  they  give  their  confidence  to  such  as  expect  to  gain 
it  without  an  equivalent.  But  be  frank,  fair,  and  honest  with  them, 
treating  them  not  with  marked  deference,  but  with  ordinary  cour- 
tesy, and  a  more  kind-hearted,  accessible,  hospitable  and  manageable 
people  are  not  to  be  found. 

The  Americans  are  almost  universally  known  to  be  a  sensitive 
people.  They  are  more  than  this;  they  are  over-sensitive.  This  is 
a  weakness  which  some  travellers  delight  to  play  upon.  But  if  they 
understood  its  source  aright,  they  would  deal  more  tenderly  with  it. 
As  a  nation,  they  feel  themselves  to  be  in  the  position  of  an  individual 
whose  permanent  place  in  society  has  not  yet  been  ascertained.  They 
have  struggled  in  little  more  than  half  a  century  into  the  first  rank 
amongst  the  powers  of  the  earth;  but,  like  all  new  members  of  a  con- 
fined and  very  particular  circle,  they  are  not  yet  quite  sure  of  the  firm- 
ness of  their  footing.  When  they  look  to  the  future,  they  have  no  reason 
to  doubt  the  prominency  of  the  position,  social,  political,  and  economi- 
cal, which  they  will  assume.  But  they  are  in  haste  to  be  all  that  they  are 
yet  destined  to  be;  and  although  they  do  not  exact  from  the  stranger  a 
positive  recognition  of  all  their  pretensions,  they  are  sensitive  to  a 
degree  to  any  word  or  action  on  his  part  which  purports  a  denial  of 
them.  It  must  be  confessed  that  this  weakness  has  of  late  very  much 
increased.  A  sore  that  is  being  constantly  irritated  will  soon  exhibit 
all  the  symptoms  of  violent  inflamamtion.  The  feelings  of  the  Ameri- 
can people  have  been  wantonly  and  unnecessarily  wounded  by  suc- 
cessive travellers  who  have  undertaken  to  depict  them,  nationally  and 
individually,  and  who,  to  pander  to  a  prevailing  taste  in  this  country, 
have  generally  viewed  them  on  the  ludicrous  side.  It  is  a  mistake  to 
fancy  that  the  Americans  are  impatient  of  criticism.  They  will  sub- 
mit to  any  amount  of  it  that  is  fair,  when  they  discover  that  it  is 
tendered  in  an  honest  spirit.  What  they  most  wince  at  is  the  appel- 
lation to  them  and  their  affairs_of  epithets  tending  to  turn  them  into 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  285 

ridicule.  You  may  be  as  severe  as  you  please  with  them,  even  in 
their  own  country  as  well  as  out  of  it,  without  irritating  them,  pro- 
vided it  appears  that  your  intention  is  not  simply  to  raise  a  laugh  at 
their  expense.  When  I  first  went  to  Washington  I  was  cautioned  by 
one  who  knew  the  Americans  well,  not  to  suppress  my  real  senti- 
ments concerning  them,  but  to  be  guarded  as  to  the  terms  and  the 
manner  in  which  I  gave  utterance  to  them.  They  have  been  so 
frequently  unjustly  dealt  with  by  English  writers,  that  they  now  sus- 
pect every  Englishman  of  a  predetermination  to  treat  them  in  a 
similar  manner.  I  acted  upon  the  advice  which  I  received,  and  for 
the  six  months  during  which  I  resided  in  the  capital,  I  freely  indulged 
in  criticism  of  men  and  things,  without,  so  far  as  I  could  ascertain, 
giving  the  slightest  offence  to  any  one.  But  there  are  cases  in  which 
a  look,  a  shrug  of  the  shoulder,  or  a  verbal  expression,  may  cause 
the  greatest  irritation.  In  this  country  it  is  difficult  to  understand 
this  sensitiveness  on  the  part  of  the  American  people.  England  has 
her  fixed  position  in  the  great  family  of  nations,  and  at  the  head  of 
civilisation — a  position  which  she  has  long  occupied,  and  from  which 
it  will  be  some  time  ere  she  is  driven.  We  care  not,  therefore,  what 
the  foreigner  says  or  thinks  of  us.  He  may  look  or  express  contempt 
as  he  walks  our  streets,  or  frequents  our  public  places.  His  praise 
cannot  exalt,  nor  can  his  contempt  debase  us,  as  a  people.  The 
desire  of  America  is  to  be  at  least  abreast  of  England  in  the  career 
of  nations;  and  every  expression  which  falls  from  the  Englishman 
showing  that  in  his  opinion  she  is  yet  far  behind  his  own  country, 
grates  harshly  upon  what  is  after  all  but  a  pardonable  vanity,  spring- 
ing from  a  laudable  ambition. 

The  Americans  are  much  more  sensitive  at  home  than  they  are 
abroad.  Their  country  is  but  yet  young  ;  and  when  they  hear  parties 
abroad  who  have  never  seen  it,  expressing  opinions  in  any  degree 
derogatory  to  it,  they  console  themselves  with  the  reflection  that  the 
disparaging  remark  has  its  origin  in  an  ignorance  of  the  country, 
which  is  judged  of,  not  from  what  it  really  is,  but  simply  as  a  State 
of  but  seventy  years'  growth.  Now  in  Europe  it  is  but  seldom  that 
seventy  years  of  national  exjstence  accomplishes  much  for  a  people. 
It  is  true  that  more  has  been  done  for  mankind  during  the  last 
seventy  than  perhaps  during  the  previous  700  ;  but  the  development 
of  a  nation  in  Europe  is  a  slow  process  at  the  best, as  compared  with 
the  course  of  things  in  this  respect  in  America.  The  American, 
therefore,  feels  that,  if  the  European  would  suspend  his  judgment 
until  he  saw  and  heard  for  himself,  it  would  be  very  different  from 
what  it  is  when  begotten  in  predjudice  and  pronounced  in  ignorance. 
This  takes  the  sting  from  such  disparaging  criticism  abroad  as  he 
may  chance  to  hear.  But  if  it  is  offered  at  home,  unless  it  is  accom- 
panied with  all  the  candour  and  honesty  in  which  such  criticism 
should  alone  be  indulged  in,  he  has  no  such  reflection  to  take  refuge 


286  THE  WESTERN  WORLD. 

in,  and  it  wounds  him  to  the  quick.  If,  notwithstanding  all  the  evi- 
dences which  the  country  affords  of  unexampled  prosperity,  universal 
contentment,  social  improvement  and  material  progress,  the  foreigner 
still  speaks  of  it,  not  in  terms  of  severity,  but  in  those  of  contempt — 
in  terms,  in  short,  which  the  American  feels  and  knows  are  not 
justifiable — he  can  only  refer  the  criticism  to  a  predetermination  to 
turn  everything  into  ridicule,  and  is  consequently  not  unjustly 
offended.  Such,  unfortunately,  is  the  predetermination  with  which 
a  large  proportion  of  English  travellers  in  America  enter  the  coun- 
try, demeaning  themselves,  during  their  peregrinations  through  it, 
with  an  ill-disguised  air  of  self-importance,  unpalatable  to  a  people 
who  have  become  jealous  from  unmerited  bad  treatment.  The  con- 
sequence is,  that  every  Englishman  in  America  is  now  on  his  good 
behaviour.  He  is  not  regarded  as  candid  until  he  proves  himself, 
but  the  reverse,  as  prejudiced  and  unfriendly,  until  he  gives  testimony 
of  his  fairness  and  honesty. 

If  the  Americans  are  more  sensitive  at  home  than  they  are  abroad, 
they  are  more  boastful  abroad  than  they  are  at  home.  The  one  is  a 
mere  weakness,  the  other  frequently  an  offence.  Many  in  Europe 
judge  of  the  American  people  from  the  specimens  of  them  who  travel. 
There  are,  of  course,  many  Americans  that  travel,  who,  if  they  par- 
take largely  of  the  national  vanity  attributed  to  them  all,  have  the 
tact  and  the  courtesy  to  conceal  it.  Indeed,  some  of  the  best  speci- 
mens of  Americans  are,  for  obvious  reasons,  those  who  have  travelled 
much  from  home.  But  the  great  mass  of  American  travellers  enter 
foreign  countries  with  as  thick  a  coat  of  prejudice  about  them,  as 
Englishmen  generally  wear  in  visiting  America.  The  consequence 
is  that  they  commit  the  fault  abroad,  at  which  they  are  so  irritated 
when  committed  in  regard  to  themselves  by  the  foreigner  in  America. 
With  the  American  abroad,  however,  this  fault  assumes  the  reverse 
phase  of  that  taken  by  it  when  committed  by  the  foreigner  in  Ame- 
rica. The  Englishman,  for  instance,  who  is  disposed  to  view  every- 
thing in  America  through  a  jaundiced  eye,  and  to  draw  invidious 
comparisons  between  the  two  countries,  exalts  his  own  by  running 
down  the  other.  The  American,  on  the  other  hand,  having  the 
same  object  in  view,  approaches  it  from  the  opposite  side,  drawing 
comparisons  favourable  to  his  country,  not  by  disparaging  others, 
but  by  boasting  of  his  own.  This  may  be  the  weaker,  but  it  is  cer- 
tainly the  less  offensive  manifestation  of  a  common  fault.  It  would 
be  erroneous  to  suppose  that  the  national  vanity  which  so  many  Ame- 
ricans exhibit  abroad,  is  prominently  manifested  at  home.  At  all 
events  it  is  not  obtruded  upon  the  stranger.  The  evidences  of  the 
country's  greatness,  both  present  and  prospective,  are  before  him 
when  in  the  country  ;  and  to  recapitulate  them  to  him  under  these 
circumstances  would  be  but  to  tell  a  tale  twice  over.  If  he  does  not 
draw  favourable  conclusions  from  what  he  sees,  it  is  hopeless  to  ex- 


THE   WESTERN   WORLD.  287 

pect  him  to  do  so  from  anything  that  he  could  hear.  The  American 
may  be  amazed  at  his  real,  or  annoyed  at  his  wilful  blindness,  but  he 
generally  leaves  him  to  his  own  inferences.*  It  is  only  abroad,  and 
when  in  contact  with  those  who  have  not  had  ocular  demonstration 
of  it,  that  he  is  prone  to  dwell  in  a  vaunting  spirit  upon  his  country's 
greatness. 

Some  allowance,  however,  should  be  made  for  the  American,  even 
in  his  most  boastful  humour.  If  he  has  nothing  in  a  national  point 
of  view  to  be  vain  of,  he  has  certainly  much  of  which  he  can  and 
should  feel  proud.  There  is  no  other  country  on  earth  which  in  so 
short  a  time  has  accomplished  so  much.  It  has  but  just  passed  the 
usual  term  allotted  as  the  period  of  life  to  man,  and  yet  it  takes 
rank  as  a  first-rate  power.  But  let  it  not  be  supposed  that  all  this 
has  been  achieved  in  seventy  years.  The  American  republic  has 
never  had  a  national  infancy,  like  that  through  which  most  European 
nations  have  passed.  The  colonies  were,  in  a  measure,  old  whilst 
they  were  yet  new.  They  were  as  old  as  England  herself  in  point 
of  moral,  and  new  only  in  point  of  material,  civilization.  They  were 
not  savages  who  laid  the  foundations  of  our  colonial  dominion  in 
America,  but  emigrants  from  a  highly  civilized  society,  carrying 
with  them  all  the  moral  results  of  centuries  of  social  culture.  The 
youth  of  Anglo-Saxon  America  was  not  a  period  of  barbarism  ;  its 
civilization,  morally  speaking,  was  up  with  our  own  when  it  was  first 
colonized.  If  it  did  not  always  keep  up  with  it,  the  reason  is  to  be 
found  in  the  nature  of  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  placed. 
The  civilization  of  England  in  the  seventeenth  century  was  trans- 
planted to  a  country  resembling  England  in  the  first.  The  barbarism 
of  nature  was  a  drawback  to  the  rapid  development  of  the  civilization 
which  had  been  transferred  to  it.  A  war  between  the  two  imme- 
diately ensued,  the  result  of  which  was  the  subjugation  of  the  wil- 
derness, and  the  civilization  of  external  nature.  But  during  the 
progress  of  the  conflict,  particularly  in  its  earliest  and  severest 
stages,  the  career  of  intellectual  and  moral  improvement  was  neces- 
sarily retarded.  The  merit  of  the  American  colonists  consisted  in 
this,  that  their  retardation  was  not  much  greater  and  more  pro- 
longed. The  same  conflict  is  now  being  waged  in  the  Far  West, 
society  there  at  the  present  day  being  the  counterpart  of  what  society 
was  on  the  sea-board  colonies  two  centuries  ago.  In  the  colony 
material  civilization  had  greatly  progressed  previously  to  1776. 
When,  therefore,  the  independence  of  America  was  proclaimed, 
the  country  had  made  large  advances  in  the  career  of  social  and 
material  improvement,  so  that  when  it  became  invested  with  a  dis- 
tinct and  separate  nationality,  it  was  already  comparatively  old.  The 
present  development  of  America  cannot,  then,  be  regarded  as  the 
result  of  its  efforts  during  the  brief  period  of  its  independence. 
The  sources  of  that  development  are  traceable  not  only  back  to 


288  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

colonial  times,  but  also  to  the  successive  stages  of  English  civiliza- 
tion, long  before  the  colonies  were  dreamt  of.  Although  the  Ame- 
rican cannot  thus  refer' all  his  country's  greatness  to  the  period  of 
its  independence,  there  is  no  question  that  the  strides  which  it  has 
taken  during  that  period  cast  all  its  previous  advances  into  the  shade. 
In  these  he  has  undoubtedly  cause  for  national  pride  and  self-gratu- 
latiori. 

Intimately  connected  with  the  pride  of  country  which  generally 
distinguishes  the  Americans,  is  the  feeling  which  they  cherish  to- 
wards their  institutions.  Indeed,  when  the  national  feeling  of  an 
American  is  alluded  to,  something  very  different  is  implied  from 
that  which  is  generally  understood  by  the  term.  In  Europe,  and 
particularly  in  mountainous  countries,  the  aspect  of  which  is  such 
as  to  impress  itself  vividly  upon  the  imagination,  the  love  of  country 
resolves  itself  into  a  reverence  for  locality  irrespective  of  all  other 
considerations.  Thus  the  love  which  a  Swiss  bears  to  his  country 
is  attached  to  the  soil  constituting  Switzerland,  without  reference  to 
the  social  or  political  institutions  which  may  develop  themselves  in 
the  cantons.  And  so  with  the  Scottish  mountaineer,  whose  national 
attachments  centre  upon  the  rugged  features  of  his  native  land.  It 
is  seldom  that  the  national  feeling  exhibits  itself  to  the  same  extent 
in  the  breast  of  one  born  aird  bred  in  a  country  surpassingly  rich, 
perhaps,  in  all  the  productions  which  minister  to  the  comforts  of 
life,  but  destitute  of  those  rough  and  stern  features  which  so  endear 
his  country  to  the  hardy  mountaineer.  It  is  quite  true  that  inspirit- 
ing historic  associations  may  frequently  produce  feelings  of  national 
attachment  similar  to  those  inspired  by  a  grand  and  imposing  deve- 
lopment of  external  nature :  it  is  thus  that  some  of  the  most  patriotic 
tribes  on  earth  are  the  inhabitants,  not  of  the  rugged  mountain  defile, 
but  of  the  rich  and  monotonous  plane.  But  the  American  exhibits 
little  or  none  of  the  <iocal  attachments  which  distinguish  the  Euro- 
pean. His  feelings  are  more  centred  upon  his  institutions  than  his 
mere  country.  He  looks  upon  himself  more  in  the  light  of  a  repub- 
lican than  in  that  of  a  native  of  a  particular  territory.  His  affections 
have  more  to  do  with  the  social  and  political  system  with  which  he 
is  connected,  than  with  the  soil  which  he  inhabits.  The  national 
feelings  which  he  and  a  European  cherishes  being  thus  different  in 
their  origin  and  their  object,  are  also  different  in  their  results.  The 
man  whose  attachments  converge  upon  a  particular  spot  of  earth,  is 
miserable  if  removed  from  it,  no  matter  how  greatly  his  circum- 
stances otherwise  may  have  been  improved  by  his  removal ;  but  give 
the  American  his  institutions,  and  he  cares  but  little  where  you  place 
him.  In  some  parts  of  the  Union  the  local  feeling  may  be  compa- 
ratively strong,  such  as  in  New  England ;  but  it  is  astonishing  how 
readily  even  there  an  American  makes  up  his  mind  to  try  his  for- 
tunes elsewhere,  particularly  if  he  contemplates  removal  merely  to 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  289 

another  pnrt  of  the  Union,  no  matter  how  remote,  or  how  different 
in  climate  and  other  circumstances  from  what  he  has  been  accus- 
tomed to,  provided  the  flag  of  his  country  waves  over  it,  and  repub- 
lican institutions  accompany  him  in  his  wanderings. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  this  peculiarity,  which  makes  an  American 
think  less  of  his  country  than  of  the  institutions  which  characterise 
it,  contributes  greatly  to  the  pride  which  he  takes  in  his  country. 
He  is  proud  of  it,  not  so  much  for  itself  as  because  it  is  the  scene 
in  which  an  experiment  is  being  tried  which  engages  the  anxious 
attention  of  the  world.  The  American  feels  himself  much  more 
interested  in  the  success  of  his  scheme  of  government,  if  not  more 
identified  with  it,  than  the  European  does  in  regard  to  his.  The 
Englishman,  for  instance,  does  not  feel  himself  particularly  com- 
mitted to  the  success  of  monarchy  as  a  political  scheme.  He  will 
support  it  so  long  as  he  is  convinced  that  it  conduces  to  the  general 
welfare ;  and,  judging  it  by  this  standard,  it  is  likely  that  he  will  yet 
support  it  for  a  long  time  to  come.  He  feels  his  honour  to  be 
involved  in  the  independence  of  his  country,  but  does  not  consider 
himself  to  be  under  any  obligations  to  prove  this  or  that  political 
system  an  efficient  one.  The  political  scheme  under  which  he  lives 
he  took  as  part  and  parcel  of  his  inheritance  in  a  national  point  of 
view,  and  his  object  is  to  make  the  best  of  it.  It  is  very  different, 
however,  with  the  American.  He  feels  himself  to  be  implicated, 
not  only  in  the  honour  and  independence  of  his  country,  but  also 
in  the  success  of  democracy.  He  has  asserted  a  great  principle, 
and  feels  that,  in  attempting  to  prove  it  to  be  practicable,  he  has 
assumed  an  arduous  responsibility.  He  feels  himself,  therefore,  to 
be  directly  interested  in  the  success  of  the  political  system  under  which 
he  lives,  and  all  the  more  so  because  he  is  conscious  that  in  look- 
ing to  its  working  mankind  are  divided  into  two  great  classes — those 
who  are  interested  in  its  failure,  and  those  who  yearn  for  its  success. 
Every  American  is  thus,  in  his  own  estimation,  the  apostle  of  a  par- 
ticular political  creed,  in  the  final  triumph  and  extension  of  which  he 
finds  both  himself  and  his  country  deeply  involved.  This  gives  him  a 
peculiar  interest  in  the  political  scheme  which  he  represents ;  and 
invests  his  country  with  an  additional  degree  of  importance  in  his 
sight,  as  in  that  of  many  others,  from  being  the  scene  of  an  experi- 
ment in  the  success  of  which  not  only  Americans  but  mankind  are ' 
interested.  Much,  therefore,  of  the  self-importance  which  the 
American  assumes,  particularly  abroad,  is  less  traceable  to  his  mere 
citizenship  than  to  his  conscious  identification  with  the  success  of 
democracy.  Its  manifestation  may  not  always  be  agreeable  to  others, 
but  the  source  of  his  pride  is  a  legitimate  and  a  noble  one.  It 
involves  not  only  his  own  position,  but  also  the  hopes  and  expecta- 
tions of  humanity. 

It  is  this  feeling  which   renders  the  establishment  of  monarchy 

VOL.  II.— 25 


290  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

an  impossibility  in  the  United  States.  The  American  not  only 
believes  that  his  material  interests  are  best  subserved  by  a  demo- 
cratic form  of  government,  but  his  pride  is  also  mixed  up  with  its 
maintenance  and  its  permanency.  It  is  a  common  thing  for  Euro- 
peans to  speculate  upon  the  disintegration  of  the  Union,  and  the  conse- 
quent establishment,  in  some  part  or  partscf  it,  of  the  monarchical  prin- 
cipal. These  speculations  are  geanerlly  based  upon  precedents,  but 
upon  precedents  which  have  in  reality  no  application  to  America.  The 
republics  of  old  are  pointed  to  as  affording  illustrations  of  the  ten- 
dencies of  republicanism.  But  the  republics  of  old  afford  no  cri- 
terion by  which  to  judge  of  republicanism  in  America.  The  expe- 
riment which  is  being  tried  there  is  one  sui  generis.  Not  only  are 
the  political  principles  established  different  from  those  which  have 
heretofore  been  practically  recognised ;  but  the  people  are  also  in  a 
better  state  of  preparation  for  the  successful  development  of  the 
experiment.  The  social  condition  of  the  ancient  republics  was  as 
different  from  that  of  America  as  night  is  from  day.  The  political 
superstructures  which  arose  in  them  conformed  themselves  more  or 
less  to  the  nature  of  their  bases.  The  result  was  not  republicanism, 
but  oligarchy.  All  that  can  be  said  of  these  so-called  republics  is, 
that  they  were  not  monarchies.  But  it  does  not  follow  that  they 
were  republican.  The  elementary  principle  of  republicanism  is, 
that  government,  to  be  stable,  must  be  deeply  rooted  in  the  public 
will.  The  governments  of  the  older  republics  were  not  so,  and  they 
perished — as  all  usurpations  will  and  must  do.  The  more  modern 
republics,  again,  are  divisible  into  two  classes — such  as  were  assimi- 
lated in  the  principles  and  in  the  form  of  their  government  to  the 
more  ancient,  and  such  as  too  hastily  and  inconsiderately  assumed 
the  true  democratic  type.  If  the  former  shared  the  fate  of  the 
older  republics,  it  was  because  they  resembled  them  in  the  faulti- 
riess  of  their  construction.  If  the  latter  were  evanescent,  and 
speedily  relapsed  into  monarchy,  it  was  but  the  natural  result  of 
hasty  and  violent  transition.  But  the  mistake  lies  in  arguing  from 
these  cases,  particularly  the  latter,  in  our  speculations  as  to  the 
future  of  America.  It  is  but  natural  that  a  people  who  have  been 
for  ages  inured  to  monarchy,  whose  sentiments  are  more  or  less 
intertwined  and  whose  sympathies  are  bound  up  with  it,  should,  after 
having  been  for  a  season,  either  through  their  own  madness  or 
through  the  folly  of  others,  divorced  from  it,  revert  to  it  again  on 
the  first  favourable  opportunity.  But  in  doing  so  they  are  only  fol- 
lowing the  true  bent  of  their  inclinations,  to  which  their  inconside- 
rate republican  experiment  in  reality  did  violence.  Generations 
must  elapse  ere  a  people  trained  and  educated  to  monarchy  can  be 
really  converted  into  republicans:  in  other  words,  a  people  cannot 
be  suddenly  or  violently  diverted  from  that  to  which  they  have  been 
trained  and  accustomed.  This  is  a  very  simple  rule;  but  simple 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  291 

though  it  be,  it  is  precisely  that  which  Europeans  overlook  in  judg- 
ing of  the  stability  of  democracy  in  America.  The  American 
Republic,  in  the  first  place,  differs  essentially  from  all  that  have 
preceded  it,  in  the  principles  on  which  it  is  founded :  it  is  not  a 
republic  in  simply  not  being  a  monarchy:  it  is  a  Democratic  Repub- 
lic, in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  term.  If  it  is  not  a  monarchy, 
neither  is  it  an  oligarchy.  It  is  the  people  in  reality  that  rule  ;  it  is 
not  a  mere  fraction  of  them  that  usurps  authority.  The  success  of 
the  American  experiment  depended,  as  it  still  depends,  upon  the 
character  of  the  people.  As  already  shown,  the  stability  of  the 
republic  is  intimately  identified  with  the  enlightenment  of  the  public 
mind — in  other  words,  with  the  great  cause  of  popular  education  ; 
it  is  to  the  promotion  ot  education  that  it  will  in  future  chiefly  owe  its 
success.  But  its  maintenance  at  first  was  mainly  owing  to  the 
political  antecedents  of  the  people.  It  is  quite  true  that  they  were 
converted  in  a  day  from  being  the  subjects  of  a  monarchy  into  the 
citizens  of  a  republic.  But  let  us  not  overlook  the  long  probation 
which  they  underwent  for  the  change.  From  the  very  foundation 
of  the  colonies,  the  subjects  of  the  British  crown  in  America  were 
being  practised  in  the  art  of  self-government.  The  charters  which 
most  of  the  colonies  received  from  the  crown  were  of  the  most 
liberal  description,  and,  in  fact,  constituted  the  seeds  of  the  future 
Republic.  Prerogative  ran  high  at  home  in  the  days  of  the  Resto- 
ration;  but  so  liberal  was  the  charter  which  Charles  II.  conceded  to 
the  colony  of  Rhode  Island,  that  from  1776  down  to  1842  it  served 
the  purposes  of  a  constitution  in  the  State  of  Rhode  Island.  The 
political  transition,  therefore,  which  took  place  in  1776,  so  far  from 
being  a  violent  one,  was  but  the  natural  consequence  of  the  politi- 
cal education  to  which  the  American  colonists  had  been  subjected 
for  a  century  and  a  half  before.  The  moment  they  separated  them- 
selves from  the  imperial  crown,  they  assumed  the  republican  form 
of  government,  not  from  impulse  or  enthusiasm,  but  from  the  very 
necessity  of  the  case.  They  had  been  long  taught  the  lesson  of 
self-reliance  and  self-control ;  and  if,  so  long  as  they  were  colonists, 
they  remained  monarchists,  it  was  more  from  old  associations  and 
ties  than  from  not  being  ripe  for  a  republic.  The  establishment  of 
the  Republic  in  America  in  1776,  then,  was  not  a  violent  act,  but 
a  necessary  one,  after  the  disruption  between  the  colonies  and  the 
mother  country.  This  is  what  those  forget  who  predict  that  the 
Republic  will  speedily  relapse  into  monarchy.  But  it  is  in  this  that 
consists  the  essential  difference  between  the  American  Republic, 
and  the  European  republics  of  a  modern  date.  Had  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Republic  in  1776  warred  with  the  habits  or  done  vio- 
lence to  the  feelings  of  the  people,  its  overthrow  might  have  been 
speedily  looked  for.  But  so  far  was  this  from  being  the  case,  that 
no  other  form  of  government  could  have  been  instituted  that  would 


292  THE   WESTERN   WORLD. 

have  outlived  a  lustrum.  The  establishment  of  a  permanent  mo- 
narchy was  as  impossible  in  America  in  1776,  as  was  the  establish- 
ment of  a  permanent  republic  in  France  in  1848.  Tn  the  one  case, 
the  tendency  of  the  people  to  revert  to  that  to  which  they  were 
educated,  trained,  and  accustomed,  would  have  overpowered  the 
system  temporarily  established  amongst  them — as  it  is  speedily 
destined  to  do  in  the  other.  The  safety  of  the  American  Republic 
consists  in  this,  that  in  establishing  it  the  American  people  were 
not  suddenly  or  violently  diverted  from  the  political  order  of  things 
to  which  they  had  been  accustomed.  Let  parties  well  consider  this 
before  they  indulge  in  sinister  predictions  as  to  the  instability  of  the 
political  institutions  of  America.  If  the  Americans  have  been  suc- 
cessful as  republicans,  it  is  because  they  underwent  a  long  proba- 
tion to  the  principle  of  Republicanism.  Under  the  shadow  of  a 
powerful  monarchy  to  which  they  belonged,  but  by  which  they  were 
really  not  governed,  they  practically  acquainted  themselves  with  the 
art  of  self-government.  The  colonies  were  thus  practically  repub- 
lics before  they  became  independent.  Institutions,  to  be  stable, 
must  conform  to  the  tastes,  habits  and  genius  of  a  people.  Monarchy 
could  not  have  done  so  in  America  in  1776.  Republicanism  alone 
was  suited  to  the  character  of  the  people  and  the  exigencies  of  the 
country.  Republicanism  alone,  therefore,  was  possible. 

It  is  equally  so  at  the  present  day.  Consider  the  Americans  now 
— and  what  is  there  in  their  character,  feelings,  or  circumstances  to 
lead  them  back  to  monarchy?  Everything  connected  with  them 
tends  the  other  way.  Their  associations  are  all  republican — their 
principles  and  practice  have  ever  been  so — their  interests  have  been 
subserved  by  republican  institutions,  and  their  pride  is  now  involved 
in  their  maintenance  and  extension.  The  circumstances  of  the 
country,  and  the  character  and  genius  of  the  people,  are  as  much 
now  as  in  1776  inimical  to  monarchy.  On  what,  therefore,  rests 
the  supposition  so  often  hazarded  by  parties  in  this  country,  that  vio- 
lence will  be  done,  and  that  ere  long  to  the  Republic  in  America  1 
Unless  the  people  can  be  persuaded  to  do  violence  to  their  feelings, 
tastes,  habits,  and  associations,  and  to  adopt  institutions  incompatible 
with  their  position  and  circumstances,  there  is  no  fear  of  democracy 
in  America. 

Many  point  to  the  accumulation  of  wealth  as  that  which  will  work 
the  change.  It  is  quite  true  that  some  of  the  millionaires  of  Ame- 
rica would  have  no  objection  to  the  establishment  of  a  different  order 
of  things.  But  both  in  numbers  and  influence  they  are  insignificant, 
as  compared  with  the  great  mass  even  of  the  commercial  and  manu- 
facturing communities,  who  are  staunch  democrats  at  heart.  Much 
more  are  they  so  when  we  take  the  great  agricultural  body  of  Ame- 
rica into  account.  Here,  after  all,  is  the  stronghold  of  democracy  on 
the  continent.  However  it  may  be  undermined  in  the  town,  its 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  293 

foundations  rra  deeply  and  securely  laid  in  the  township.  No  one 
who  has  mingled  much  with  the  American  farmers  can  entertain  any 
serious  doubts  of  the  stability  of  democracy  in  America.  Even  were 
the  entire  commercial  and  manufacturing  community  otherwise  dis- 
posed, they  could  make  no  impression  against  the  strong,  sturdy, 
democratic  phalanx  engaged  in  the  cultivation  of  the  soil.  But  the 
great  bulk  of  the  commercial  and  manufacturing  classes  are,  as 
already  intimated,  as  devoted  to  the  republican  system  as  any  of  the 
fanners  can  be.  During  the  whole  of  my  intercourse  with  the  Ame- 
ricans, I  never  met  with  more  than  two  persons  who  expressed  a 
desire  for  a  change.  One  was  an  old  lady  who  got  a  fright  at  an 
election,  and  the  other  was  a  young  lieutenant  in  the  army,  who 
lisped,  through  his  moustache,  his  preference  for  a  military  despotism 
to  a  republican  government.  It  was  very  evident  that  he  understood 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other. 

The  following  will  serve  to  illustrate  how  deeply  the  republican 
sentiment  has  infused  itself  into  the  minds  of  all  classes  in  America. 
On  my  return  to  Liverpool  I  visited  Eaton  Hall,  near  Chester,  in 
company  with  some  Americans  who  had  been  my  fellow-voyagers. 
Afrer  inspecting  the  interior,  we  strolled  along  the  magnificent 
grounds  which  enclose  that  noble  pile.  One  of  the  company  was  a 
retired  merchant  of  New  York,  who  had  amassed  a  large  fortune, 
and  occupied  a  fine  mansion  in  the  upper  and  fashionable  part  of 
Broadway.  After  waiting  until  he  had  seen  all,  I  asked  him  what 
he  thought  of  it.  He  replied,  that  he  would  give  me  his  opinion 
when  we  were  in  the  streets  of  Chester.  I  understood  his  meaning, 
and  asked  him  if  he  did  not  think  that  the  same  diversities  of  light 
and  shade  would  soon  be  exhibited  in  his  own  country.  He  replied, 
that  it  was  possible,  but  that  he  would  shed  the  last  drop  of  his  blood 
to  prevent  it,  and  impose  it  as  a  sacred  obligation  upon  his  children 
to  do  the  same.  This  was  not  said  in  vulgar  bravado,  but  in  un- 
affected earnestness.  But  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  but  one  example. 
True,  it  is  but  one  example,  but  I  can  assure  the  reader  that  it  illus- 
trates a  universal  sentiment. 

It  may  be  considered  a  little  singular,  but  if  the  love  of  democracy 
admits  of  degrees  in  America,  the  ladies  cherish  it  to  the  greatest 
extent.  Could  there  be  a  better  guarantee  for  its  continuance? 

Nor  let  it  be  supposed  that  the  democratic  sentiment  is  confined 
to  the  United  States.  The  Canadas  are  now  undergoing  the  proba- 
tion to  which  the  revolted  colonies  were  subjected  previously  to 
177G.  At  no  period  in  their  history  were  the  provinces  more  loyal 
or  well  affected  towards  the  mother  country  than  they  are  at  this 
moment.  So  long  as  they  remain  united  with  us,  they  will  cherish 
as  a  sentiment  the  monarchical  principle,  albeit  that  their  daily  poli- 
tical practice  is  both  of  a  republican  character  and  tendency.  But 
suppose  a  separation  to  take  place,  I  candidly  appeal  to  every  Ca- 

25* 


294  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

nadian  to  bear  me  out  in  the  assertion  that  monarchy  in  Canada 
would  be  impossible.  And  whilst  the  tendency  of  things  is  thus 
towards  democracy  in  our  own  colonies,  some  of  us  fancy  that  their 
tendency  is  towards  monarchy  in  the  Republic. 

Many  of  what  some  regard  as  the  more  inflated  peculiarities  of 
the  American  character,  may  be  attributed  to  the  faith  which  Ame- 
ricans cherish  in  the  destiny  of  their  country.  Whatever  may  be  its 
future  social  and  political  influence,  they  have  no  doubt  that,  as  re- 
gards territorial  extension,  it  will  yet  embrace  the  continent.  The 
issues  which  such  a  consummation  involves  are  enough  to  make  a 
people  feel  proud  of  their  country.  The  realisation  of  their  hopes 
in  this  respect,  they  regard  as  a  mere  question  of  time.  They  feel 
that  there  is,  in  reality,  no  power  on  the  continent  that  can  ultimately 
resist  them.  I  was  forcibly  impressed  with  the  extent  to  which  this 
feeling  prevails,  on  listening  one  day  to  a  speech  delivered  by  Mr. 
Crittenden  of  Kentucky,  in  the  Senate,  shortly  after  the  breaking  out 
of  the  Mexican  war.  It  was  in  reply  to  Mr.  Sevier  from  Arkansas, 
who  was  complaining  that  a  portion  of  one  of  the  counties  of  that 
State  had  been  reserved  to  the  Indians.  Mr.  Crittenden,  in  showing 
him  how  unworthy  such  a  complaint  was,  reminded  him  that  the 
whole  State  had  been  taken  from  the  Indians,  and  not  only  it,  but 
every  State  in  the  Confederacy.  He  then  recapitulated  the  acces- 
sions made  to  the  territory  of  the  Union  since  the  period  of  its  inde- 
pendence. He  alluded  to  the  boundary,  particularly  the  south  and 
south-west,  as  ever  changing  so  as  to  embrace  new  acquisitions.  It 
had  first  swept  from  the  St.  Mary's  round  the  peninsula  of  Florida, 
and  crept  up  the  gulf  to  the  Mississippi  and  Sabine.  It  afterwards 
fled  westward  to  the  Neuces,  and  was  then,  he  reminded  the  House, 
alluding  to  the  cause  of  the  war,  supposed  to  be  on  the  Rio  Grande. 
It  fled,  he  continued,  before  the  Anglo-American  race  as  it  advanced. 
"  Where  is  it  now?"  he  asked  in  conclusion.  "  Just,"  he  added, 
"  where  we  please  to  put  it." 

Many  fall  into  the  mistake  of  supposing  that  an  indulgence  in 
hatred  of  England  is  a  chronic  state  of  the  American  mind.  In  the 
Irish  population  of  the  United  States  is  the  true  source  of  the  enmity 
towards  this  country  which  is  sometimes  exhibited.  Originating 
amongst  these,  unscrupulous  politicians  fan  the  flame  to  serve  their 
own  purposes ;  but  it  has  to  be  constantly  supplied  with  fuel,  or  it 
speedily  dies  out.  The  feeling  is  not  a  general  one,  nor  is  it  per- 
manent with  any  section  of  the  native  population,  not  directly  of  Irish 
extraction.  In  all  disputes  with  this  country  there  is  more  of  bluster 
than  bad  feeling.  The  American  desires  to  see  his  country  in 
advance  of  all  nations,  in  power,  wealth',  and  moral  influence.  Great 
Britain  is  the  only  power  which  he  now  regards  as  standing  in  the 
way.  The  Americans  treat  us  as  the  only  enemies,  when  enemies, 
worthy  of  a  thought  as  such.  It  is  this  that  makes  them  so  touchy 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  295 

in  all  their  quarrels  with  us.  They  are  far  more  likely  to  be  reason- 
able and  conciliatory  in  a  dispute  with  Spain  than  with  Great  Britain. 
They  may  give  way  in  the  one  case,  but  they  fear  that  if  they  did  so  in 
the  other,  it  would  seem  as  if  that  they  had  been  bullied  into  so  doing. 
We,  again,  have  been  the  only  enemy  with  which  they  have  ever 
been  in  serious  collision.  But  after  all,  a  friendly  and  kindly  feeling 
with  regard  to  us  pervades  the  American  mind  ;  they  would  not  wil- 
lingly see  us  injured  by  a  third  party,  if  they  could  prevent  it. 

"  We  have  had  many  quarrels  with  you,"  said  a  lady  to  me  once 
in  Washington,  "  but  we  are  proud  of  our  descent  from  the  English  ! 
We  court  the  French  when  it  suits  our  purpose,  but,"  she  added, 
with  great  emphasis,  "  we  would  not  be  descended  from  them  on  any 
account." 

The  Americans  are  charged  by  some  as  being  guilty  of  inconsist- 
ency in  the  fondness  which  they  manifest  for  titles.  But  those  who 
make  this  charge  do  so  without  reflection.  The  Americans  are  fond 
of  titles,  but  that  does  nor  argue  that  they  are  inconsistent  republi- 
cans. The  fondness  for  titles  which  they  display  is  but  a  manifesta- 
tion of  the  fondness  for  distinction  natural  to  the  human  mind.  And 
what  sane  man  ever  inculcated  the  idea  that  republicanism  was  in- 
consistent with  the  love  of  distinction?  Constitute  society  as  you 
may,  there  must  be  posts  of  honour,  power,  influence  dignity  and 
emolument,  to  strive  for.  These  exist  in  republics  as  well  as  under 
any  other  form  of  government.  Are  they  not  to  be  striven  for  with- 
out compromising  one's  political  creed?  And  if  the  office  is  ob- 
tained, why  not  be  called  by  its  name?  The  Presidency  of  the 
Republic  is  an  office — he  who  obtains  it  is  called  the  President. 
Does  a  man  cease  to  be  a  republican  because  he  aspires  to  both? 
Is  it  not  rather  a  laudable  ambition  that  prompts  the  aspiration  ?  Or 
should  he  who  obtains  the  office  drop  the  title?  As  it  is  with  the 
title  of  President,  so  it  is  with  all  other  titles  in  America.  A  judge- 
ship  is  a  distinction.  On  him  who  obtains  it,  it  confers  the  appella- 
tion of  Judge.  A  governorship  of  a  State  is  a  distinction.  He  who 
is  appointed  to  it  is  called  the  Governor.  And  so  on  through  all  the 
offices  in  the  State,  civil  and  military.  There  is  this  broad  and  es- 
sential difference,  however,  between  titles  as  coveted  in  America  and 
titles  as  existing  in  Europe.  There  the  title  pertains  to  a  distinction 
acquired  by  the  individual  himself,  for  himself,  and  has  always  con- 
nected with  it  some  office  of  trust  or  responsibility.  Here  we  have 
similar  titles,  but  we  have  others  also  which  spring  from  the  mere 
accident  of  birth,  which  are  connected  with  no  duties,  and  which  do 
not  necessarily  indicate  any  merit  on  the  part  of  those  possessing 
them.  The  time  was  in  England  when  Marquis,  Earl,  and  Viscount 
indicated  something  more  than  mere  arbitrary  social  rank.  There  are 
in  America  no  titles  analogous  to  these.  There  duties  are  insepar- 
able from  titles.  So  long  as  there  are  offices  in  the  Republic  to  be 


296  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

filled,  and  so  long  as  Republicans  may  legitimately  aspire  to  fill 
them,  so  long  may  they,  without  sacrificing  their  consistency,  assume 
the  title  of  the  offices  to  which  they  are  appointed. 

The  love  of  money  is  regarded  by  many  as  a  striking  trait  in  the 
American  character.  I  fear  that  this  is  a  weakness  to  which 
humanity  must  universally  plead  guilty.  But  it  is  quite  true  that  it 
is  an  absorbing  passion  with  the  Americans.  This  cannot  be  denied, 
but  it  may  be  explained.  America  is  a  country  in  which  fortunes 
have  yet  to  be  made.  Wealth  gives  great  distinction,  and  wealth  is, 
more  or  less,  within  the  grasp  of  all.  Hence  the  universal  scramble. 
All  cannot  be  made  wealthy,  but  all  have  a  chance  of  securing  a 
prize.  This  stimulates  to  the  race,  and  hence  the  eagerness  of  the 
competition.  In  this  country,  however,  the  lottery  is  long  since 
over,  and  with  few  exceptions  the  great  prizes  are  already  drawn. 
To  the  great  bulk  of  the  people  wealth  is  utterly  unattainable.  All 
they  can  hope  for  is  competency,  and  numbers  fall  short  even  of  that. 
Men  soon  flag  in  a  hopeless  pursuit.  Hence  it  is  that,  in  this 
country,  the  scramble  is  neither  so  fierce  nor  universal. 

The  American  people  discover  an  extraordinary  talent  for  inven- 
tion. The  Patent-office  in  Washington  is  a  most  creditable  monu- 
ment to  their  inventive  power.  They  are  also  quick  in  the  adoption 
of  an  improvement,  no  matter  from  what  source  it  proceeds. 

They  are  excessively  fond  of  being  well  dressed.  The  artizans 
amongst  them  are  particularly  so,  not  so  much  from  personal  vanity, 
as  from  the  fact  that  they  make  dress  a  test  of  respectability.  Almost 
every  man  who  is  not  an  emigrant  wears  superfine  broad-cloth  in 
America,  if  we  except  tbe  hard-working  farmer,  who  generally 
attires  himself  in  homespun.  You  seldom  meet  with  a  fustian  jacket, 
except  on  an  emigrant's  back,  in  an  American  town. 

This  leads  me,  in  concluding  this  chapter,  briefly  to  glance  at  the 
physical  condition  of^society  in  America.  If  the  social  structure  in 
the  Republic  has  no  florid  Corinthian  capitol  rising  into  the  clear 
air  above,  neither  has  it  a  pedestal  in  the  mire  beneath.  If  it  is  de- 
void of  much  of  the  ornamental,  so  is  it  also  wanting  in  much  of  the 
painful  and  degrading.  It  may  not  be  so  picturesque  as  many  of  the 
social  fabrics  which  have  sprung  from  chivalry  and  feudalism,  but  it 
is  nevertheless  compact,  elegant,  symmetrical,  and  commodious.  It 
is  to  English  society,  what  a  modern  house  is  to  an  Elizabethian 
mansion — it  is  not  built  so  much  to  attract  the  eye  as  to  accommo- 
date the  inmates. 

The  most  important  feature  of  American  society,  in  connexion 
with  its  physical  condition,  is  that  competence  is  the  lot  of  all.  No 
matter  to  what  this  is  attributable,  whether  to  the  extent  and  re- 
sources of  the  country,  or  to  the  nature  of  its  institutions,  or  to  both, 
such  is  the  case,  and  one  has  not  to  be  long  in  America  to  discover 
it.  It  is  extremely  seldom  that  the  willing  hand  in  America  is  in 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  297 

want  of  employment,  whilst  the  hard-working  man  lias  not  only  a 
competency  on  which  to  live,  but,  if  frugal,  may  soon  save  up  suffi- 
cient (o  procure  for  himself  in  the  West  a  position  of  still  greater 
comfort  and  independence.  There  are  paupers  in  America,  but, 
fortunately,  they  are  very  few.  They  are  generally  confined  to  the 
large  towns;  nor  need  they  subsist  upon  charity,  if  they  had  the 
energy  to  go  into  the  rural  districts  and  seek  employment.  This, 
however,  is  not  applicable  to  the  majority  of  them,  who  are  aged 
and  infirm.  It  may  be  laid  down  as  a  general  rule,  without  qualifi- 
cation, that  none  are  deprived  of  competency  in  America  except 
such  as  are  negligent,  idle,  or  grossly  improvident.  The  general 
effect  of  this  upon  society  has  been  already  considered.  Both  in 
their  social  and  political  relations,  all  classes  are  thus  able  to  act  au 
independent  part — an  important  consideration  in  connexion  with 
the  peculiar  polity  of  America. 

This  being  the  broad  and  wholesome  basis  on  which  society,  so 
far  as  regards  its  physical  condition,  rests,  the  character  of  the  super- 
structure may  easily  be  inferred.  Where  all  classes  have  a  compe- 
tency, no  class  demurs  to  the  luxuries  enjoyed  by  another.  There 
is  but  little  jealousy  of  wealth  in  America,  for  reasons  already  ex- 
plained. It  is  but  in  extremely  rare  instances  that  gigantic  accumu- 
lations have  as  yet  been  made.  Nor  are  they  likely  to  be  speedily 
multiplied,  the  whole  spirit  of  legislation  being  against  them.  There 
is  no  legislation  against  accumulations  of  personal  property,  for  the 
very  good  reason  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  prevent  its  distribution. 
It  is  sure  to  circulate  through  the  community,  so  that  all,  by  turns, 
can  have  the  advantage  of  it.  But  the  whole  spirit  of  American 
legislation  is  decidedly  averse  to  accumulations  of  landed  property. 
Such  the  people  conceive  would  be  incompatible  with  the  safety  of 
their  institutions.  They  have  accordingly  removed  all  restrictions 
upon  its  alienation,  and  land  is  now  as  marketable  a  commodity  as 
the  wheat  that  is  raised  upon  it. 

It  is  seldom  indeed  that  you  find  a  native  American,  or  the  de- 
scendant of  an  emigrant,  occupying  a  lower  position  than  that  of  an 
artizan.  Those  who  are  mere  labourers  are  almost  exclusively  emi- 
grants, and,  in  nineteen  cases  out  of  twenty,  Irish  emigrants.  Such 
as  emigrate  from  England,  Scotland,  or  Germany,  are  soon  absorbed 
in  the  rural  population,  and  become,  by-and-by,  proprietors  of  land 
themselves.  But  the  Irish  congregate  in  masses  in  the  large  towns, 
as  they  do  here,  to  do  the  drudgery  of  the  community.  It  is  thus 
that,  if  a  canal  is  being  dug,  or  a  railway  constructed,  you  meet  whh 
gangs  of  labourers  almost  entirely  composed  of  Irishmen.  Their 
descendants,  however,  become  ambitious  and  thrifty,  and  form  the 
best  of  citizens. 

Enough  has  here  been  said  to  show  that  America  is  the  country 
for  the  industrious  and  hard-working  man. 


298  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

^ 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

A    PEEP    INTO    THE    FUTURE. 

Future  of  the  Anglo-American  Commonwealth. — Its  political  Future. — Dangers 
of  the  Slavery  Question. — Crisis  approaching,  in  connexion  with  it. — Tactics 
of  the  North  and  South.—  Their  respective  attitudes,  in  reference  to  the  Ques- 
tion.— Proposal  to  abolish  the  Traffic  in  Slaves  in  the  District  of  Columbia — 
Bearing  of  this  upon  the  whole  Question  at  issue. — Dangers  connected  with 
the  Territorial  Extension  of  the  Union — The  Material  Future  of  the  Repub- 
lic.— Probable  consequences  of  a  Dissolution  of  the  Union. — The  Formation 
of  two  Republics. — The  Northern  Confederacy  including  the  British  Pro- 
vinces.— Difficulties  in  the  way  of  such  an  arrangement. — The  Industry  of 
America  the  only  Rival  which  we  have  to  fear. — The  necessary  Progress  of 
American  Industry. — The  fabric  of  material  greatness  which  it  will  yet  rear. — 
Probable  effects  upon  the  position  and  fortunes  of  England — Conclusion. 

AN  attempt  at  a  hurried  glance  into  the  future,  may  form  a  not 
inappropriate  conclusion  to  the  foregoing  general  view  of  men 
and  things  in  America  down  to  the  present  time.  In  turning  the 
veil  slightly  aside,  we  cannot  expect  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  the 
details  of  destiny,  whether  of  individuals  or  nations;  but  we  may 
form  some  estimate  of  the  more  prominent  of  coming  events  from 
the  palpable,  albeit  undefined,  shadows  which  they  forecast.  In 
attempting  to  fathom  the  future  of  America,  we  are  lost  amid  the 
multiplicity  of  speculations  which  crowd  upon  us;  but  we  can, 
nevertheless,  discern  amongst  them  some  of  the  great  purposes  of 
fate,  as  they  loom  upon  us  through  the  uncertain  light,  in  obscure 
outline  but  gigantic  proportions.  Whatever  may  be  the  fate  of  its 
present  political  arrangement,  the  future  of  the  Anglo-American 
Commonwealth  is  pregnant  with  mighty  destinies. 

That  into  which  we  are  first  naturally  led  to  inquire,  is  the 
political  future.  It  is  impossible  to  foresee  the  changes  which  may 
be  wrought  in  habits,  tastes,  and  opinions,  during  the  flight  of  many 
successive  generations;  but,  from  what  has  been  said  in  the  fore- 
going chapter,  it  will  be  evident,  I  think,  that  for  a  long  time  at 
least,  democracy,  as  the  elementary  principle  of  government  in 
America,  is  sure  to  maintain  itself.  How  rapidly  or  how  frequently 
soever  systems  may  change,  and  others  succeed  them,  they  will 
differ  from  each  other  in  their  form,  but  not  in  their  substance. 
Any  form  of  government  but  that  which  is  essentially  popular,  is  at 


THE    WESTERN   WORLD.  299 

present  impossible  in  America;  and  so  far  from  things,  as  we  can 
now  judge  of  them,  tending  towards  monarchy,  they  incline  rather 
to  the  further  extension  of  the  purely  democratic  element  in  the 
government.  Many  point  exultingly  to  what  others  again  regard 
despondingly,  in  proof  that  the  tendency  of  things  is  decidedly  and 
rapidly  towards  monarchy — the  prorieness  which  Americans  exhibit 
to  invest  the  successful  warrior  with  power.  It  cannot  be  denied 
but  that  this  is  an  indefensible  weakness  in  the  American  character. 
The  accomplished  and  experienced  statesman  is  frequently  laid 
aside  for  the  lucky  or  adroit  fighter;  and  men  utterly  untried  in  the 
important  art  of  administration,  are  suddenly  cast  by  the  wave  of 
popular  enthusiasm  into  administrative  positions,  because  they  have 
successfully  conducted  a  campaign.  The  art  of  administration, 
like  that  of  war,  is  one  which  can  only  be  acquired  by  experience. 
It  does  not  follow  that  he  who  excels  in  one  is  necessarily  prepared 
at  once  to  grapple  with  the  other.  When  there  are  tried  generals 
at  command,  who  would  think  of  entrusting  an  important  military 
expedition  to  him  who  had  only  approved  himself  as  an  accom- 
plished statesman?  But  such  a  manifestation  of  confidence  would 
not  necessarily  be  more  absurd  than  to  put  implicit  faith  in  the 
administrative  powers  of  a  successful  warrior,  whose  duties  of 
administration  have  hitherto  been  confined  within  the  precincts  of 
the  carnp.  We  laugh  at  the  idea  of  Lord  John  Russell  taking  the 
command  of  the  Channel  fleet,  yet  somehow  or  other  we  do  not 
think  it  so  very  strange  that  Zachary  Taylor  should  mount  the 
presidential  chair  at  Washington.  But  if  Lord  John  Russell's 
antecedents  have  not  prepared  him  for  commanding  the  fleet, 
neither  have  General  Taylor's  prepared  him  for  administering  the 
civil  government  of  the  Republic.  He  may  turn  out  to  be  a  good 
President,  but  when  the  post  to  be  filled  was  the  highest  civil  post 
in  the  nation,  to  pass  by  such  a  man  as  Henry  Clay,  to  promote 
General  Taylor,  was  as  inconsistent,  on  the  part  of  the  American 
people,  as  it  would  be  on  that  of  the  government  of  this  country, 
during  a  great  national  emergency,  to  supersede  Admiral  Sir  W. 
Parker  in  the  Mediterranean  by  the  noble  lord  already  named. 
Taylor,  however,  is  not  the  first  of  the  military  Presidents.  It  was 
but  a  common  act  of  gratitude  to  elevate  General  Washington  to 
the  presidency,  in  addition  to  which  his  powers  of  administration 
were  great.  Six  civil  Presidents  succeeded  him,  after  whom  came 
General  Jackson,  the  very  type  of  military  Presidents.  A  civilian 
succeeded  him,  who  was  defeated  in  his  second  candidature  by 
General  Harrison.  He  again  was  followed  by  a  civilian,  who  is 
about  to  be  displaced  by  the  hero  of  some  recent  victories.  But 
both  those  who  exult  and  those  who  despond  at  this  hero-worship 
overrate  its  strength  and  misconceive  its  tendencies.  The  mistake 
is  in  believing  that  the  hero,  when  elevated  to  power,  might  retain 


300  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

it.  Sometimes,  as  was  General  Jackson's  case,  the  idol  is  worshipped 
to  excess;  but  the  American  people  never  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that 
the  idol  is  one  of  their  own  fashioning.  Try  to  force  one  upon 
them,  or  let  him  be  self-imposed,  and  see  how  long  he  would  have 
a  votary  in  the  country.  Had  Jackson  in  the  plenitude  of  his  power 
manifested  in  the  slightest  degree  an  intention,  or  even  a  desire  to 
perpetuate  it,  his  most  violent  partisans  would  have  seceded  from 
him  in  a  day.  The  Americans  may  make  a  man  virtually  dictator 
for  a  term  of  years,  and  obey  him  as  such,  but  there  is  a  limit  in 
point  of  time  to  his  sway  which  they  will  not  permit  him  to  tran- 
scend, and  which  the  American  executive  is  in  itself  powerless  to 
extend.  At  the  end  of  eight  years  General  Jackson,  like  Cincin- 
natus,  returned  to  his  plough.  Nobody  wondered  at  it,  because 
nobody  was  prepared  for  anything  else.  The  periodic  expiration 
of  power  in  America  is  a  law  of  its  normal  condition.  Hero-wor- 
ship in  America,  therefore,  is  not  inconsistent  with  fidelity  to  the 
Republic,  or  with  the  continuance  of  that  deep-rooted  aversion  to 
monarchy  which  pervades  the  American  mind. 

It  is  not,  then,  as  to  the  duration  of  democracy  in  America  that 
we  need  entertain  any  doubts,  but  as  to  the  stability  of  the  existing 
political  arrangement.  It  is  not  the  republicanism,  but  the  federal- 
ism of  America  that  is  in  danger.  By  this  I  mean  federalism  in  its 
present  form  and  manifestation.  For  federalism  and  republicanism 
will  co-exist  there,  although  the  present  federal  structure  may  be 
swept  away.  The  only  question,  then,  is  as  to  the  stability  of  the 
present  Union.  Will  the  American  republics  remain  long  united 
together  as  at  present,  or  will  they  adopt  a  new  form  of  political 
existence  as  one  or  as  several  confederations? 

I  have  already  glanced  at  the  dangers  as  well  as  at  the  guarantees 
of  the  Union.  The  former  chiefly  resolve  themselves  into  a  conflict 
of  material  interests.,  The  latter  comprise  strong  material  ties;  some 
of  a  natural,  and  others  of  an  artificial  kind.  Some  sections  of  it  sacri- 
fice much  in  this  respect  to  the  Union.  This  sacrifice,  to  be  con- 
tinued, must  be  at  least  counterbalanced  by  the  advantages  and 
conveniences  of  the  Union.  The  moment  this  ceases  to  be  the. 
case,  disintegration  would  speedily  ensue,  but  for  the  existence  of 
other  elements  of  cohesion.  I  allude  to  the  national  sentiment 
which  pervades  the  American  mind,  and  the  national  substratum  on 
which  the  federal  superstructure  is  based.  But  all  these  combined 
may  not  be  proof  against  disturbing  causes  of  a  very  violent  descrip- 
tion. Is  the  Union  threatened  with  such  at  present? 

It  frequently  happens  that  the  greatest  catastrophes  are  those  which 
are  the  least  heralded.  A  portentous  tfalm  sometimes  precedes  the 
earthquake,  and  the  elements  are  often  in  the  most  perfect  repose 
just  as  they  are  about  to  be  most  violently  disturbed.  It  is  true  that 
there  have  been  times  when  dissensions  have  exhibited  themselves 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  301 

more  angrily  and  more  noisily  than  at  present.  But  the  Republic 
has  never  yet  struggled  through  a  crisis  like  that  which  is  approach- 
ing it.  For  the  time  being  men's  minds  are  partly  led  away  by  other 
events  of  an  interesting  and  startling  character,  so  that  the  premoni- 
tory symptoms  of  the  crisis  are  but  partly  heeded.  The  eclat  of  a 
successful  war  has  not  yet  subsided,  whilst  the  public  mind  is  still 
excited  by  the  unexpected  possession  of  an  El  Dorado.  But  despite 
of  this,  the  difficulty  steadily  approaches,  unperceived  and  unheeded 
by  many,  but  increasing  in  magnitude  every  hour.  Sooner  or  later 
it  would  inevitably  have  presented  itself,  but  the  Mexican  war  has,  in 
its  results,  both  precipitated  and  aggravated  it.  Slavery  is  the  diffi- 
culty. It  is  the  Ireland  of  the  Americans.  A  great  question  has  to 
be  settled  respecting  it.  Its  decision  has  hitherto  been  from  time 
to  time  postponed,  from  an  instinctive  dread  of  its  consequences. 
The  time  of  its  solution  is  now  at  hand. 

The  acquisition  of  so  much  new  territory  in  the  south-west,  whilst 
it  has  added  to  the  national  resources  and  pandered  to  the  national 
pride,  has  alarmed  all  parties  in  connexion  with  its  necessary  bearing 
upon  the  question  of  slavery.  From  the  moment  in  which  slavery  is 
extended  over  it,  the  evil,  as  regards  the  continent,  is  aggravated  ten- 
fold. It  is  on  this  account  that  the  North  is  alarmed  at  the  very 
thought  of  its  further  extension.  From  the  moment  in  which  the 
territory  is  declared  free,  the  South  is  placed  in  a  position  of  immi- 
nent peril.  Its  property,  its  institutions,  and  the  very  existence  of 
society  in  it,  are  put  in  jeopardy.  A  compromise  is  once  more  pro- 
posed, but  the  North  is  no  longer  disposed  to  stave  off  an  evil  which 
must  ultimately  be  grappled  with.  By  the  adoption  of  the  compro- 
mise, a  large  proportion  of  the  acquired  territory  would  be  declared 
free ;  but  the  North  refuses  to  listen  to  it,  and  for  very  obvious  rea 
sons.  Were  it  accepted,  the  line  dividing  the  free  from  the  slave 
regions  would  run  across  the  continent  to  the  Pacific.  In  other 
words,  it  would  cover  the  whole  of  what  remains  of  Mexico.  Now, 
there  are  few  Americans  who  dream  but  that  in  the  course  of  a  very 
short  time,  another  slice  of  Mexico  will  fall  into  their  hands,  and 
then  another,  and  another  still,  until  there  is  nothing  left  of  the  help- 
less Spanish  republic.  With  these  acquisitions  in  prospect,  it  would 
be  impolitic  in  the  extreme  in  the  North  to  permit  a  broad  belt  of 
slave  territory  now  to  intervene  between  the  free  territory  of  the 
Republic  west  of  the  Mississippi,  and  the  yet  unappropriated  proj 
vinces  of  Mexico.  Should  this  be  permitted,  and  some  of  these 
provinces  be  afterwards  added  to  the  Confederacy,  the  North  could 
not  well  insist  upon  their  being  placed  in  the  category  of  the  free 
States.  This  is  what  now  so  greatly  complicates  the  question  of  a 
compromise,  even  were  the  North  still  disposed,  which  it  seems  not 
to  be,  to  stave  off,  for  another  period,  the  final|decision. 

The  two  sections  of  the  Union  have  thus  come  at  last,  as  it  were, 

VOL.  II.— 26 


302  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

to  a"dead  lock  in  reference  to  the  question  of  slavery.  It  is  important 
to  the  interests  of  each  to  carry  its  point;  it  would  be  destructive  to 
the  policy  of  either  to  miss  it.  In  other  words,  the  time  for  drawn 
battles  is  past,  and  the  period  is  approaching  when  one  of  the  two 
sections  of  the  Union  must  obtain,  in  connexion  with  this  subject,  a 
final  and  decisive  victory  over  the  other,  or  when  the  Union  itself 
will  be  rent  asunder.  It  is  essential  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
Union  that  one  party  or  the  other  gives  way.  Will  either  do  so  ?  If 
so — which? 

Both  parties  have  already  manifested  their  determination  to  oppose 
every  resistance  to  the  demands  of  the  other.  Since  the  meeting 
of  Congress  in  December  last,  the  North  has  been  the  aggressive 
party.  The  strongest  exhibition  which  it  has  made  of  the  spirit 
which  animates  it,  has,  as  yet,  been  of  an  indirect  kind,  although 
intimately  connected  with  the  whole  subject  of  slavery.  I  have 
already  alluded  to  the  important  part  which  the  District  of  Columbia 
plays  in  the  whole  question.  It  is  essential  to  the  interest  of  slavery 
that  the  institution  in  the  District  should  be  left  intact.  It  exists  in 
the  District  precisely  as  it  exists  in  the  circumjacent  States  of  Mary- 
land and  Virginia ;  that  is  to  say,  not  only  are  persons  held  to 
slavery  in  it,  but  they  may  also  be  trafficked  in  as  slaves.  The  pre- 
sent House  of  Representatives  has  struck  an  incipient  blow  at  the 
system  in  the  District.  It  has,  by  a  considerable  majority  on  such 
a  subject,  adopted  a  resolution,  ordering  a  bill  to  be  introduced  to 
prohibit  in  future  all  trafficking  in  slaves  in  the  District  of  Columbia. 
This  gave  rise  to  a  most  ominous  excitement  in  Congress,  and  has 
created  the  utmost  consternation  throughout  the  length  and  breadth 
of  the  South.  It  is  not  that  the  interests  of  the  slave  States  are 
bound  up  in  the  existence  of  a  traffic  in  slaves  in  the  District, 
but  that  they  dread  the  slightest  intermeddling  with  the  subject  on 
the  part  of  Congress.*  Their  object  is  to  hold  slavery  in  the  District 
independent,  in  every  respect,  of  Congressional  action.  They  deny 
the  power  of  Congress  constitutionally  to  meddle  with  it  in  any 
degree.  If  it  touches  it  in  one  point,  it  may  touch  it  in  all.  The 
South,  by  sanctioning  any  proposal  to  legislate  on  the  subject,  would 
concede  the  whole  question  of  power.  But  to  this,  as  a  vital  point, 
it  most  tenaciously  sticks.  If  it  now  permits  Congress  to  abolish 
the  traffic  in  slaves  in  the  District,  what  is  there  to  prevent  Congress 
afterwards  from  abolishing  slavery  altogether  in  the  District?  This 
is  the  great  object  to  which  the  North  tends — it  is  the  catastrophe 
which  the  South  would  ward  off.  It  is  but  as  a  step  towards  it  that 
the  North  seeks  to  introduce  the  bill  alluded  to — it  is  as  a  step 
towards  it  that  the  South  resists  its  introduction.  The  North  has, 
in  other  instances,  also  recently  given  token  of  the  spirit  which  now 
animates  it,  but  it  is  in  connexion  with  this  bill  that  it  has  assumed 
its  most  menacing  attitude.  It  is  high  time  that  it  took  a  final  stand 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  303 

upon  the  subject.  Slavery  is  admitted  by  all  parties  to  be  an  evil 
which,  more  or  less,  affects  the  entire  Republic.  The  North  has 
all  along  submitted  to  it  from  the  necessity  of  the  case.  It  most 
unwisely  aggravated  it  by  the  extension  of  slavery  to  Texas.  It  is 
now  fully  alive  to  the  error  which  it  then  committed,  and  is  not  dis- 
posed to  repeat  it,  for  its  repetition  would  be  accompanied  with  the 
most  formidable  risks.  Its  tactic  now  is  aggressive.  Perhaps  it 
would  be  wise  in  the  North,  under  all  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  to  let  the  District  alone,  and  to  confine  itself  to  resistance  to 
the  further  extension  of  the  system  of  slavery.  But,  not  content 
with  this,  it  is  now  attacking  slavery  in  what  is  recognized  as  its 
citadel.  The  darling  doctrine  of  the  South,  that  it  has  no  power  to 
do  so,  involves  this  absurdity,  that,  if  Congress  has  no  power,  there 
being  no  other  legislative  power  in  the  District,  slavery  within  the 
District  is  beyond  all  power.  No  State  can  touch  it,  and  if  Congress 
cannot  do  so,  there  is  no  power  in  the  Union  which  can  reach  it. 

The  South  lost  no  time  in  throwing  itself  into  an  attitude  of 
determined  resistance.  By  the  last  accounts,  a  species  of  committee 
of  public  safety  was  sitting  on  its  behalf  in  the  capital.  When  the 
resolution  was  adopted  in  the  Lower  House,  a  secession  from  that 
body  of  the  southern  members  was  proposed  by  a  representative 
from  the  South.  The  proposal  was  cheered  by  some,  and  laughed 
at  by  others.  But  formidable  passions  have  been  roused,  and  Con- 
gress is  treading  upon  a  volcano.  South  Carolina  is  once  more  in 
a  state  of  dangerous  fermentation.  Her  leader  and  champion  Mr. 
Calhoun,  the  Slave  King,  is  actively  organizing  resistance  at 
Washington.  The  Southern  members  of  both  Houses  had  met 
under  his  auspices,  to  consider  what  was  best  to  be  done  in  the  crisis. 
The  result  of  their  deliberations  was  the  appointment  of  a  committee 
to  draw  up  an  address  to  the  South,  pointing  out  to  it  its  true 
position,  real  interests,  and  undoubted  duty.  The  address  was  being 
drawn  up,  if  not  by  Mr.  Calhoun  himself,  at  least  under  his  directions. 
Speculation  was  rife  as  to  its  tenor  and  import.  It  was  believed 
that  it  would  openly  advise  the  South  that  it  had  no  longer  anything 
to  expect  from  the  justice  or  forbearance  of  the  North;  and  that  the 
resistance,  which  it  should  offer  to  .further  aggression,  should  be  in- 
fluenced by  this  conviction.  Should  such  be  the  scope  and  tenor  of 
the  address,  the  question  is  how  will  the  South  receive  it  ?  There 
is  danger  in  the  way,  whichever  may  be  the  mode  in  which  it 
receives  it.  If  warmly,  the  Southern  members,  supported  by  their 
constituents,  will  resist  at  all  hazards.  If  coldly,  the  North  will  be 
stimulated  to  further  encroachments,  until  the  South  is  ultimately 
driven  to  the  point  of  unanimous  resistance. 

Such  is  the  crisis  which  has  been  superinduced  by  the  spoliation 
of  Mexico.  California  may  yet  cost  more  to  the  Union  than  all  its 


304  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

gold  can  compensate  for.  Nations,  as  well  as  individuals,  are 
amenable  to  the  law  of  moral  retribution. 

It  is  not  only  in  the  new  and  perilous  phase  which  it  has  given  to 
the  question  of  slavery,  that  the  recent  extension  of  its  territory  is 
fraught  with  danger  to  the  Union.  American  politicians  of  the  true 
Polk  stamp  are  apt  to  trust  too  much  to  the  capacity  for  expansion 
of  the  federal  system.  Hitherto  it  has  safely  expanded  to  admit 
territories  which  were  not  within  its  pale  at  the  time  of  its  founda- 
tion. But  a  power  of  extension  does  not  necessarily  imply  a 
capacity  for  indefinite  extension.  Like  the  caoutchouc  ring,  the 
American  system  may  contract  so  as  to  hold  together  only  a  few 
States,  or  it  may  expand  so  as  to  include  many.  But  it  should  be 
remembered  that,  with  every  expansion,  it  becomes  weaker  and 
weaker,  and  that  the  strongest  ligature  will  snap  at  last.  The  great 
danger,  however,  is  not  so  much  in  the  acquisition  of  new  territories, 
as  in  the  introduction  of  new  interests  into  the  Union.  One  of  the 
main  difficulties  with  which  it  has  had  to  contend,  was  to  reconcile 
the  great  interests  which  it  included  from  the  very  first.  It  now 
embraces  all  that  it  could  include,  were  it  to  absorb  the  continent. 
It  embraced  the  manufacturing,  the  commercial,  the  agricultural,  the 
cotton,  and  the  sugar-growing  interests,  previously  to  the  acquisition 
of  California,  which  has  comprehended  within  the  catalogue  that 
connected  with  the  precious  metals.  So  far  as  these  are  concerned, 
therefore,  its  difficulties  would  now  be  but  little  increased,  were  it  to 
push  its  boundary  to  the  Isthmus. 

The  conflict  of  material  interests  has  already  menaced  the  integrity 
of  the  Union.  Arid  this,  too,  when  there  were  no  other  causes  of 
irritation  existing,  between  section  and  section  of  the  Confederacy. 
That  conflict  is  being  renewed,  and  at  a  moment  when  the  public 
mind  is  agiiated  by  other  questions  of  vast  importance.  Unfortun- 
ately the  question  of  the  tariff  is  one  which  the  South  regards,  like 
that  of  slavery,  as  sectional.  Notwithstanding  the  excellent  work- 
ing of  the  Tariff  Act  of  1846,  the  Whigs  in  the  Lower  House  have 
manifested  a  disposition,  if  they  could,  to  abrogate  it.  Of  course, 
so  long  as  the  Senate  is  democratic,  any  attempt  to  revert  to  a  high 
tariff  will  prove  abortive.  But  it  is  this  constant  attitude  of  defence, 
in  which  the  South  must  keep  itself  against  the  North,  as  well  for 
the  preservation  of  its  domestic  institutions,  as  for  the  maintenance 
of  its  material  interests,  that  engenders  that  growing  feeling  of 
alienation  from  the  Union,  which  now,  to  some  extent,  characterises 
the  Southern  mind. 

Such  are  the  difficulties  which,  by  their  combination,  make  np 
the  present  crisis.  If  the  Union  gets  well  through  it,  it  may  be 
regarded  as  indestructible.  If  it  splits  upon  the  rock,  what  will  be 
the  sew  political  arrangements  of  the  continent? 


THE   WESTERN    WORLD.  305 

In  that  case,  everything  would  seem  to  point  to  the  formation  of 
two  federal  republics — the  one  in  the  North  and  the  other  in  the 
South — the  one  free,  the  other  slaveholding.  The  latter  would 
strengthen  itself  by  engulfing  Mexico — the  former  would  gradually 
absorb  theCanadas.  But  natural  though  this  division  seems,  a  great 
difficulty  lies  in  the  way  of  its  realisation.  That  difficulty  is  the 
Mississippi.  This  river  flows  for  half  its  course  through  free,  for  the 
other  half  through  slave  latitudes.  Some  of  the  States,  which  it 
binds  together  in  one  material  and  political  system,  are  free,  others 
slave-holding.  With  the  exception  of  this  difference,  their  interests 
are  identical.  Of  course  the  slave  States  on  the  Mississippi  would 
follow  the  fortunes  of  the  slave  .States  on  the  Atlantic  and  on  the 
Gulf,  whilst  the  free  States  on  trie  Mississippi  would  make  common 
cause  with  those  on  the  lakes  and  on  the  sea-board.  The  result 
would  be,  that  the  Mississippi  would  then  flow  through  two  inde- 
pendent jurisdictions.  Its  lower  half  would  be  in  possession  of  the 
Southern  republic,  without  whose  permission  the  States  further  up 
could  make  no  use  of  it  beyond  the  point  separating  the  two 
jurisdictions.  Would  the  States  of  the  Upper  Mississippi  brook  this 
partition  of  their  common  highway  to  the  ocean?  It  is  true  that  on 
account  of  the  accessibility  to  them  of  the  basin  of  the  lakes  and 
the  St.  Lawrence,  and  of  the  Atlantic  seaports,  by  means  of  the 
artificial  communications  established  between  the  valley  and  the 
coast,  the  Mississippi  is  less  indispensable  to  them  than  to  the  States 
bordering  it  lower  down.  But  it  is,  nevertheless/of  the  highest 
importance  to  them,  and  their  reluctance  to  relinquish  it  would 
materially  complicate  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  a  new  political 
arrangement. 

A  northern  confederacy,  embracing  the  north  bank  of  the  Ohio, 
and  the  whole  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  would  include  the  pith 
and  enterprise  of  the  continent.  To  such  an  arrangement  I  found 
many  intelligent  persons,  both  in  New  York  and  New  England, 
looking  forward,  whilst  the  Canadians  were  gradually  reconciling 
themselves  to  it.  The  divorce  of  the  northern  federation  from  the 
system  of  slavery  would  remove  one  very  great  objection  which  the 
Canadians  entertain  to  the  idea  of  a  junction  with  the  neighbouring 
States. 

It  is  the  extent  to  which  we  are  interested  in  the  material-,  that 
gives  a  passing  interest  to  the  political  future  of  America.  Should 
a  division  of  the  Republic  take  place,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that 
the  closest  commercial  and  political  alliance  would  immediately 
spring  up  between  the  South  and  this  country.  Once  free  from  the 
North,  the  South  would  reduce  its  tariff  to  the  lowest  revenue  point, 
in  order  to  promote  the  export  of  its  great  [staple.  The  Southern 
market  would  in  that  case  be  more  supplied  than  ever  with  fabrics 
bv  England,  which  would  tend  greatly  to  enhance  the  export  of  raw 

26* 


o06  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

cotton  to  this  country.  It  would  be  thus  worth  while  to  propitiate 
England ;  for  whilst  the  South  would  always  be  sure  of  the  North 
as  a  market  for  her  staple,  she  would  not  be  so  secure  of  England, 
who,  if  driven  to  it  by  interest  or  necessity,  could  procure  her  raw 
cotton  elsewhere. 

Whatever  obscurity  may  now  hang  around  the  political  future  of 
the  Republic,  no  doubt  can  exist  as  to  the  destiny  of  the  different 
communities  now  constituting  it,  in  a  material  point  of  view. 
There  can  be  no  question  but  that  the  material  interests  of  the  Union, 
as  a  whole,  would  be  best  subserved  by  the  maintenance  of  its  poli- 
tical integrity.  Its  disintegration  would,  however,  have  no  very 
serious  effect  upon  the  development  of  the  material  wealth  of  the 
continent.  And  it  is  for  this  reason,  that,  in  viewing  America  as 
our  great  industrial  rival,  we  may  pay  but  little  regard  to  its  political 
fortunes. 

In  estimating  our  own  position  amongst  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
we  are  too  little  in  the  habit  of  taking  the  growing  power,  wealth, 
and  influence  of  America  into  account.  We  think  we  do  enough, 
when  we  measure  ourselves  against  the  nations  of  Europe,  and  take 
steps  to  maintain  our  supremacy  amongst  them.  America  is  too 
far  away  to  have  much  influence  upon  our  political  arrangements, 
and  we  accordingly  attach  but  little  consequence  to  her  in  any  light. 
This  is  a  great  mistake.  America  is  the  only  power  on  earth  which 
we  have  to  dread.  We  have  not  to  fear  her  politically,  for  reasons 
already  mentioned  ;  we  have  not  to  apprehend  any  military  chastise- 
ment at  her  hands,  for  in  that  respect  we  know  both  how  to  avenge 
and  to  defend  ourselves ;  but  we  have  to  fear  the  colossal  strides 
which  she  is  taking  in  industrial  development.  We  have  less  rea- 
son to  dread  the  combined  armaments  of  the  world,  than  the  silent 
and  unostentatious  operations  of  nature,  and  the  progressive  achieve- 
ments of  art  on  the  tcontinent  of  America.  We  begird  ourselves 
with  fleets,  and  saturate  the  community  with  military  and  police, 
and  think  that  we  have  done  all  that  is  needed  for  the  perpetuation 
of  our  influence  and  the  maintenance  of  our  power.  But  in  all  this 
we  mistake  the  real  source  of  our  power.  What  is  it  but  our  mate- 
rial wealth  1  Napoleon  confessed  that  it  was  the  gold  more  than 
the  arms  of  England  that  humbled  him.  Our  wealth  is  the  result 
of  our  industry.  It  may  be  humiliating  to  confess  it,  but  it  is  not 
by  surrounding  ourselves  by  all  the  pomp  and  panoply  of  war  that 
we  can  maintain  our  position,  but  by  the  steady  promotion  and 
encouragement  of  our  industry.  Let  our  industry  flag,  and  our 
unemployed  capital  will  find  investment  elsewhere.  Let  capital 
once  begin  to  flow  from  us,  and  the  stream  will  soon  become  so 
broad  and  deep  as  to  drain  us,  as  a  nation,  of  our  life  blood.  Un- 
less our  industry  is  kept  up,  America  will  absorb  our  capital.  It  is 
like  the  raagnetic  mountain  that  extracted  all  the  nails  from  the 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  307 

ship.  Let  us  give  it  a  wide  berth  or  it  will  serve  us  in  a  similar 
manner,  and  leave  us  to  sink  with  our  cargo.  We  can  only  do  this 
by — let  me  again  repeat  it — steadily  and  zealously  promoting  and 
encouraging  our  domestic  industry. 

I  have  already  sufficiently  explained  the  foundation  which  America 
has  laid,  both  in  the  magnificent  provisions  of  nature,  and  the  stu- 
pendous achievements  ^of  art,  for  future  material  greatness.  Her 
resources  in  almost  every  point  of  view  are  infinitely  greater  than 
any  that  we  possess.  Look  at  her  forests,  her  fertile  valleys,  and 
vast  alluvial  plains.  Look  at  the  variety  of  her  productions,  inclu- 
ding most  of  those  that  are  tropical,  and  all  that  are  yielded  by  the 
temperate  zone;  and  look  at  her  mines  teeming  with  coal,  iron, 
lead,  copper,  and,  as  has  been  just  discovered,  with  silver  and  gold. 
Look  again  at  her  enormous  territory,  and  at  the  advantages  she 
possesses  for  turning  all  her  resources  into  account,  in  her  magnifi- 
cent systems  of  lakes  and  rivers;  in  her  extensive  sea-coast;  in  her 
numerous  and  excellent  harbours ;  and  in  her  geographical  position, 
presenting,  as  she  does,  a  double  front  to  the  Old  World,  or  holding 
out,  as  it  were,  one  hand  to  Asia,  and  the  other  to  Europe.  But 
such  resources  and  advantages  are  only  valuable  when  properly 
turned  to  account.  It  is  only  by  their  being  so  that  they  will  become 
formidable  to  us.  We  have  only  to  look  to  the  race  possessing 
them  to  decide  whether  they  are  likely  to  be  turned  to  account  or 
not.  The  Americans  are  Englishmen  exaggerated,  if  any  thing,  as 
regards  enterprise.  This  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  as  they  have,  as 
a  people,  more  incentives  than  we  have  to  enterprise.  Of  this  we 
may  rest  assured,  that  the  most  will  be  made  of  the  resources  and 
advantages  at  their  disposal.  This  is  all  that  has  made  us  great. 
We  have  turned  our  coal  and  our  iron,  and  our  other  resources,  to 
account,  and  the  world  has  by  turns  wondered  at  and  envied  the 
result.  The  American  stock  of  coal  and  of  iron  is  more  than  thirty 
times  as  great  as  ours,  and  more  than  twelve  times  as  great  as  that 
of  all  Europe.  Their  other  resources  are  in  the  same  proportion, 
as  compared  with  ours.  And  if  our  resources,  turned  to  good 
account,  have  made  us  what  we  are,  what  will  be  the  fabric  of  mate- 
rial greatness  which  will  yet  spring  from  the  ample  development  of 
resources  thirty  times  as  great?  If  the  industry  of  from  twenty  to 
thirty  millions  of  people,  with  limited  means,  have  raised  England 
to  her  present  pinnacle  of  greatness  and  glory,  what  will  the  indus- 
try of  150,000,000  yet  effect  in  America,  when  brought  to  bear 
upon  resources  almost  illimitable  ?  The  continent  will  yet  be  Anglo- 
Saxon  from  Panama  to  Hudson's  Bay.  What  Anglo-Saxons  have 
done,  circumstanced  as  we  have  been,  is  but  a  faint  type  of  what 
Anglo-Saxons  will  yet  do,  working  in  far  greater  numbers,  on  a 
far  more  favourable  field  of  operation. 

It  is  the  consideration  that  America  will  yet  exhibit,  in  magnified 


808  THE   WESTERN    WORLD. 

proportions,  all  that  has  tended  to  make  England  great,  that  leads 
one  irresistibly,  however  reluctantly,  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
power  of  England  must  yet  succumb  to  that  of  her  offspring.  There 
is  however,  this  consolation  left  us,  that  the  predominant  influence 
in  the  world  will  still  be  in  the  hands  of  our  own  race.  That  influ- 
ence will  not  pass  to  a  different  race,  but  simply  to  a  different  scene 
of  action.  It  has  been  England's  fate,  during  her  bright  career,  to 
plant  new  States,  which  will  inherit  her  power  and  her  influence 
after  her.  On  the  continent  of  North  America,  on  many  points  on 
the  coast  of  South  America,  at  the  southern  extremity  of  Africa, 
throughout  wide  Australia,  in  New  Zealand,  in  Van  Dierneri's  land, 
and  the  Indian  Archipelago,  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  will  prevail,  and 
the  Anglo-Saxon  language  be  spoken,  long  after  England's  glories 
have  become  historic  and  traditional.  These  different  communities, 
flourishing  remote  from  each  other,  will  all  be  animated  by  a  kindred 
spirit,  and  will  cherish  a  common  sentiment  of  attachment  to  their 
common  parent,  who  will  long  exercise  a  moral  influence  over  them, 
after  her  political  power  has  been  eclipsed.  Not  that  England  will 
not  always  be  able  to  maintain  her  position  in  Europe.  The  powers 
which  are  destined  to  overshadow  her  are  springing  up  elsewhere, 
and  are  of  her  own  planting.  Of  these  the  American  Republic,  or 
Republics,  as  the  case  may  be,  will  both  politically  and  commercially 
take  the  lead,  when  England,  having  fulfilled  her  glorious  mission, 
shall  have  abdicated  her  supremacy,  and  the  sceptre  of  empire  shall 
have  passed  from  her  for  ever. 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  309 


A  CHAPTER  ON  CALIFORNIA. 


IT  is  related  of  Columbus,  that  during  one  of  his  voyages  he 
coasted  along  the  southern  shore  of  Cuba,  with  a  view  to  verify  his 
own  impression  that  it  was  an  island.  After  sailing  for  many  days 
to  the  westward,  his  men  became  mutinous  and  unmanageable,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  put  back  when  within  half  a  day's  sail  of  the 
western  extremity  of  the  island.  Had  he  pursued  his  way  for  a  few 
hours  more,  he  would  have  taken  a  northward  course,  which  would 
have  brought  him  to  the  mouths  of  the  Sabine,  the  Mississippi,  the 
Mobile,  and  the  Appalachicola.  The  effects  which  so  simple  an 
event  might  have  had  upon  the  destinies  of  the  Continent,  it  is  not 
now  easy  to  speculate  upon.  The  chances  would  have  been,  how- 
ever, that  the  whole  course  of  Spanish  discovery  and  settlement 
would  haye  taken  a  northerly  direction,  and  that  the  America,  which 
is  now  Anglo-Saxon,  would  have  passed  under  the  dominion  of  the 
crown  of  Spain,  and  been  peopled  by  a  Spanish  race. 

It  is  also  related  of  Sir  Francis  Drake,  that  when  cruising  off  the 
north-west  coast  of  America,  he  landed  in  California,  and  traded 
with  the  natives.  He  was  in  search,  as  Raleigh  had  been  before 
him,  of  golden  regions  in  the  West.  He  was  at  San  Francisco, 
but  never  reached  the  Sacramento.  Had  he  done  so,  and  discovered 
the  soil  saturated  with  gold  how  different  a  turn  might  have  been 
given  to  the  destinies  of  the  Continent!  It  is  by  such  simple  events 
that  the  fortunes  of  nations  and  continents  are  sometimes  most  pro- 
foundly affected.  Providence  had  better  things  in  store  for  the  con- 
tinent of  North  America  than  would  probably  have  fallen  to  its  lot 
had  Columbus  doubled  the  western  point  of  Cuba,  or  Drake 
discovered  the  buried  treasures  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  It  was  some 
time  afterwards  ere  the  insular  character  of  Cuba  was  known,  and 
but  a  few  months  have  as  yet  elapsed  since  the  mineral  value  of 
California  has  been  disclosed  to  the  world. 

The  chapter  which  I  am  here  induced  to  flcfd  respecting  this 
latest  acquisition  of  the  Republic,  has  no  necessary  connexion  with 
the  preceding  part  of  this  work.  My  reason  for  adding  it  is  partly 
to  be  found  in  the  intrinsic  interest  of  the  subject,  and  partly  in  the 
effects  which  it  is  likely  to  produce  on  the  future  fortunes  of  the 
Republic.  Heretofore  I  have  described  nothing  but  what  I  have 
seen.  I  make  no  pretensions  to  have  seen  California:  but  what 
follows  of  a  descriptive  character  respecting  it  is  not  drawn  from  the 
numerous  accounts  of  it  which  have  recently  been  given  to  the 


310  THE    WESTERtf    WORLD. 

public,  some  of  them  authentic  and  some  of  a  surreptitious  character, 
but  from  what  I  heard  concerning  it  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States,  delivered  by  one  who  is  intimately  connected  with  that  meri- 
torious officer,  Captain  Fremont,  who  has  done  more  than  any 
other  employe  of  the  American  Government  to  extend  our  know- 
ledge of  Upper  California. 

It  may  be  as  well  first  to  describe  its  geographical  position  and  extent. 
It  is  the  northern  section  of  an  enormous  tract  of  country,  resting 
on  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  for  many  years  forming  a  province  of  the 
Mexican  republic,  under  the  name  of  California.  It  was  afterwards 
divided  into  two;  the  peninsula  of  California  forming  the  old  or 
lower  province,  and  the  vast  tract  extending  from  the  head  of  the 
gulf  to  the  42d  parallel  of  north  latitude,  and  from  the  Pacific  to  the 
Anahuac  Mountains,  being  erected  into  a  separate  province,  under 
the  name  of  Upper,  or  New  California.  Its  total  length  upon  the 
Pacific  is  about  700  miles,  and  it  varies  in  breadth  from  600  to  800 
miles.  Taking  700  miles  as  its  mean  breadth,  its  area  will  be 
490,000  square  miles,  being  more  than  double  the  size  of  France, 
and  nearly  quadruple  that  of  Great  Britain.  Between  it  and  the 
States  on  the  Mississippi  extends  a  vast  irreclaimable  desert  of  nearly 
a  thousand  miles  in  width.  It  is  thus  a  region  more  effectually 
separated  from  the  populous  portion  of  the  Union,  than  if  so  much 
sea  intervened  between  them.  It  has  but  few  good  harbours,  but  the 
Bay  of  San  Francisco,  the  best  of  them,  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the 
world. 

Upper  California  is  divided  into  two  great  sections,  separated  from 
each  other  by  the  Sierra  Nevada — a  chain  of  lofty  hills,  which  pur- 
sues, throughout  its  whole  length,  a  parallel  course  with  the  Pacific, 
from  150  to  200  miles  back  from  the  coast.  The  section  lying  be- 
tween this  mountain  chain  and  the  coast  is  by  far  the  smaller  of  the 
two — the  other,  which  lies  to  the  eastward  from  the  Sierra  Nevada 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  comprising  fully  four-fifths  of  the  whole 
area  of  California.  Much  obscurity  hangs  over  the  character  and 
capabilities  of  this  enormous  tract  of  territory.  That  it  is  fertile  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  mountains  which  bound  it  on  the  east 
and  on  the  west,  there  can  be  no  doubt;  whilst  the  natural  capabili- 
ties of  the  portion  of  it  which  abuts  towards  the  south-east  upon  New 
Mexico,  are  known  to  be  as  great  as  those  of  any  other  section  of 
the  continent.  But  the  enormous  area  which  passes  under  the  ge- 
neral name  of  the  Great  Interior  Basin  of  California,  is  as  unknown 
to  us  as  is  Central  Australia.  It  will  not  long  remain  so,  however, 
the  American  government  having  already  taken  effective  steps  for 
its  survey.  This  vast  district  has  been  skirted  by  various  explora- 
tors,  but  none  have  as  yet  had  the  courage  or  the  means  of  pene- 
trating into  the  interior.  So  far  as  it  has  been  examined,  it  appears 
to  present  many  features  analogous  to  those  which  we  know  to  cha- 


THE    WESTERN    WOELD.  311 

racterise,  to  some  extent,  the  interior  regions  of  the  Australian  con- 
tinent. A  little  distance  back  from  the  hills,  it  becomes  sand)7  and 
arid  ;  the  streams  seem  to  flow  internally,  and  bodies  of  salt-water 
have  been  discovered  in  it.  To  those  familiar  with  the  history  of 
Australian  exploration  and  discovery,  this  will  recall  many  of  the 
physical  phenomena  of  that  extraordinary  region. 

The  coast  section,  lying  to  the  westward  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  is 
better  known,  and  in  every  way  better  adapted  for  the  habitation  of 
man.  It  extends  in  one  elongated  valley  from  the  most  northerly 
limit  of  the  territory  to  the  head  of  the  Gulf  of  California.  This 
valley  is  enclosed  between  the  Sierra  Nevada,  and  a  range  of  low 
hills  known  as  the  Coast  range,  and  lying  but  a  short  distance  back 
from  the  Pacific;  indeed,  at  many  points  they  dip  sheer  down  into 
the  ocean.  This  range,  after  traversing  Upper  California,  pursues 
its  way  southerly  through  the  peninsula  of  California,  of  which,  in 
fact,  it  forms  the  basis.  The  Sierra  Nevada,  diverging  a  little  to 
the  eastward,  continues  its  southerly  course,  but  under  different 
names,  through  the  Mexican  province  of  Sonora.  The  Gulf  of  Cali- 
fornia here  intervenes  between  them,  as  the  valley  does  higher  up  ; 
the  gulf  being,  in  fact,  a  continuation  of  the  valley,  but  on  so  low  a 
level  that  it  is  invaded  by  the  Pacific.  The  valley  thus  extends  from 
the  head  of  the  gulf  to  beyond  the  line  dividing  Oregon  from  Cali- 
fornia, and  has  a  mean  width  of  about  125  miles.  This  valley  con- 
stitutes, so  far  as  it  has  yet  been  discovered,  the  gold  region  of 
California. 

Such  being  the  geographical  position,  extent  and  configuration  of 
California,  it  may  be  as  well  now  to  consider  briefly  the  capabilities 
of  its  soil  and  the  nature  of  its  climate.  Of  the  character  of  the 
great  region  lying  to  the  east  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  but  little  that  is 
authentic,  as  already  intimated,  is  known.  The  inference,  however, 
drawn  by  those  most  capable  of  judging  is,  that  nearly  two-thirds  of 
it  is  a  desert,  the  arid  waste  being  surrounded  by  a  belt  of  fertile 
land  lying  under  the  shelter  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  on  the  west,  and 
under  that  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  on  the  east.  Towards  the  north 
this  fertile  belt  rests  on  a  chain  of  small  lakes  which  lie  near  the 
Oregon  line,  whilst  on  the  south  it  skirts  the  province  of  Sonora. 
This  belt  is  capable  of  producing  every  species  of  grain  raised 
within  corresponding  latitudes  on  the  Atlantic  side  of  the  Continent. 
But  by  far  the  most  valuable  portion  of  the  territory  in  regard  to 
soil  is  the  valley  already  alluded  to  as  constituting  the  coast  region. 
The  soil  of  the  valley  is  in  most  places  fertile  to  a  degree,  producing 
in  abundance  not  only  Indian  corn,  rye  and  barley,  but  also  wheat, 
the  olive  and  the  vine.  It  is  well  irrigated  by  streams,  few  of  which 
descend  from  the  Coast  range.  From  the  direction  taken  by  its 
streams,  the  valley  seems  to  have  three  great  inclinations:  one 
descending  towards  the  head  of  the  Gulf,  a  portion  of  the  Colorado, 


312  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

the  largest  river  of  California,  passing  through  it;  another  descend- 
ing northward  towards  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  watered  by  the 
San  Joachim  and  its  tributaries ;  and  the  third  dipping  towards  the 
south  to  the  same  point,  watered  by  the  Sacramento  and  itsjributa- 
ries.  The  Colorado  descends  from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  not  far 
from  where  the  Rio  Grande  and  the  Red  River  take  their  rise  to 
flow  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  continent.  Both  the  San  Joachim 
and  the  Sacramento  are  almost  exclusively  formed  by  the  numerous 
streams  which  descend  from  the  westerly  slopes  of  the  Sierra  Ne- 
vada. These  streams,  which  have  but  brief  courses,  run  almost 
parallel  to  each  other,  in  the  direction  of  the  Pacific,  until  they  reach 
the  lowest  level  of  the  valley,  when  the  land  begins  to  rise  again  to 
form  the  Coast  range.  Here  they  find  their  way  by  a  common 
channel  to  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  the  San  Joachim  flowing  due 
north,  and  the  Sacramento  due  south  to  the  bay.  The  two  main 
streams,  by  which  the  different  rivers  descending  from  the  Sierra 
thus  find  their  way  to  the  ocean,  flow,  for  almost  their  entire  course, 
parallel  to  the  two  ranges  of  mountains  which  enclose  the  valley. 
Both  are  much  nearer  to  the  Coast  range  than  they  are  to  the  Sierra. 
It  will  thus  be  seen,  that  so  far  as  irrigation  is  concerned,  nature 
has  done  everything  for  this  favoured  region.  With  the  exception 
of  its  more  southerly  portion,  which  dips  towards  the  Gulf,  it  is  tra- 
versed in  its  whole  length  by  the  two  streams  just  named,  which  are 
but  the  collections  of  the  waters  of  the  innumerable  rivers  which, 
having  their  rise  in  the  Sierra,  flow  westward  till  they  reach  the 
bottom  of  the  valley.  The  region  thus  drained  into  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco  is  about  500  miles  long,  and  from  100  to  150  wide.  The 
elongated  basin  constituting  it  appears  at  one  time  to  have  been 
covered  with  water,  which  at  length  so  accumulated  as  to  break  its 
way  through  the  Coast  range  to  the  Pacific  at  the  point  now  forming 
the  bay. 

It  would  be  but  'reasonable  to  infer,  even  had  we  no  positive  in- 
formation upon  the  subject,  that  a  district  so  well  irrigated  must  be 
fertile.  Such  is  the  case  with  the  coast  region  of  California.  Its 
agricultural  capabilities  attracted  to  it  the  attention  of  American 
settlers,  before  its  incorporation  with  the  Union  was  determined 
upon,  and  before  its  golden  treasures  were  dreamt  of  Its  wealth,  in 
an  agricultural  point  of  view,  consists  so  far  chiefly  of  live  stock. 
Its  exports  of  hides  and  tallow  have  been  considerable.  It  has  also 
traded  very  largely  in  furs. 

The  whfiat  produced  in  the  fertile  districts  of  California  is  of  a 
very  superior  description,  and  the  annual  product  is  large,  except  in 
years  when  droughts  are  severe  and  prptracted.  Nor  has  California 
been  backward  in  the  produce  of  this  staple,  which  it  has  exported 
in  considerable  quantities,  both  to  Oregon  and  to  Russian  America. 
Peas  and  beans  are  [also  easily  produced,  whilst  Indian  corn  flour- 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  313 

ishes  as  an  indigenous  grain.  Grapes  can  not  only  be  raised,  but 
have  been  produced  to  a  great  extent,  and  considerable  quantities 
of  wine  have  been  made  from  them.  Cattle,  sheep,  mules,  horses, 
goats  and  swine  are  abundant.  The  mutton  of  California  is  described 
as  of  the  best  flavour,  although  the  wool  is  very  inferior,  from  the 
want  of  care  in  tending  the  sheep. 

•  Rather  unfavourable  impressions  have  long  prevailed  as  to  the 
climate  of  California.  That  of  the  Peninsula,  which  for  a  Jong  time 
was  the  only  portion  of  the  territory  at  all  known,  is  exceedingly 
dry,  the  country  being  sterile,  chiefly  for  want  of  rain.  It  has  been 
supposed  that  the  same  is  the  case  as  regards  the  whole  region.  This 
is  a  mistake.  With  the  exception  of  occasional  droughts,  the  coast 
section  of  California  is  well  supplied  with  rain;  the  clouds  produced 
by  the  evaporations  of  the  Pacific  being  deprived  of  their  super- 
abundant moisture  by  the  Coast  range  and  the  Sierra  Nevada.  In 
the  Peninsula  the  hills  are  not  high  enough  to  arrest  the  clouds, 
which  float  over  it  to  fertilize  the  soils  of  Sonora  and  New  Mexico. 
In  the  snows  which  perennially  crown  the  Sierra  in  Upper  Califor- 
nia, its  coast  rigion  has  a  never-failing  fountain  for  the  supply  of  its 
streams.  What  becomes  of  the  rivers  which  descend  the  Sierra  on 
its  eastern  side  and  flow  towards  the  interior,  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  of  the  problems  which  have  yet  to  be  solved  with  respect 
to  the  great  interior  basin.  That  the  climate  of  that  basin  is  much 
drier  than  that  of  the  coast  region,  is  obvious  from  the  Sierra  inter- 
cepting the  clouds,  which  proceed  from  the  only  quarter,  the  west, 
from  which  they  there  bring  rain.  But  in  the  heavy  dews  which  fall, 
particularly  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  nature  has  pro- 
vided a  species  of  compensation  for  the  want  of  rain.  It  is  to  these 
dews  that  many  of  the  most  productive  districts  of  New  Mexico, 
which  has  been  incorporated  along  with  California  into  the  Union, 
owe  their  fertility. 

Such,  then,  is  the  region  which  the  late  war  with  Mexico  has 
added  to  the  territories  of  the  United  States.  It  presents  a  broad 
fertile  belt  upon  the  Pacific,  a  sweep  of  productive  territory,  ex- 
tending around  the  interior  basin,  and  the  exuberant  province  of 
New  Mexico,  rich  both  in  agricultural  and  in  mineral  wealth.  The 
new  acquisition  was  considered  a  great  prize  before  the  Valley  of 
the  Sacramento  disclosed  its  hidden  treasures.  And  so  it  was,  for 
it  would  not  be  easy  to  over-estimate  its  importance  to  the  Union 
in  a  commercial  or  a  political  light.  The  province  of  New  Mexico 
forms  its  south-easterly  portion.  In  more  points  than  one  is  this 
portion  of  it  an  important  acquisition.  From  the  Lakes  down  to 
New  Mexico  a  vast  desert  intervenes,  as  already  intimated,  between 
the  States  on  the  Mississippi  and  the  territory  on  the  Pacific,  from 
which  new  States  will  yet  spring.  It  is  not  until  we  descend  to  the 
latitude  of  New  Mexico  that  we  find  the  continent  crossed  from  sea 

VOL.  II.— 27 


314  THE    WESTERN   WORLD. 

to  sea  by  a  tract  of  fertile  and  practicable  country.  This  province 
will  thus  form  an  important  link  in  the  chain  of  communication 
which  will  yet  be  established  between  the  two  sea-boards.  In  addi- 
tion to  this,  it  will,  from  its  known  mineral  wealth,  and  the  fertile 
character  of  the  numerous  valleys  by  which  it  is  intersected,  soon 
attract  to  it  a  large  arid  enterprising  population.  The  importance 
of  having  such  a  population  midway  between  the  two  sides  of  the 
continent  is  obvious.  They  will  yet  constitute  the  hardiest  of  the 
heterogeneous  population  of  the  Union,  the  country  which  they  will 
inhabit  being  of  a  rugged  and  mountainous  character.  Indeed, 
New  Mexico  and  the  south-eastern  portion  of  California  may  be 
regarded  as  the  Switzerland  of  America. 

It  did  not  require,  therefore,  the  recent  discovery  in  the  valley  of 
the  Sacramento  to  make  their  new  acquisition  valuable  in  the  eyes 
of  the  American  people.  That  event  has  not  only  enhanced  its 
value  to  them,  but  has  attracted  to  it  universal  attention. 

In  a  former  part  of  this  work,  whilst  traversing  with  the  reader 
the  Southern  Atlantic  States,  I  drew  his  attention  to  the  only  region 
in  the  Union  then  known  as  the  gold  region.  I  described  it  as 
extending  from  the  basin  of  the  St.  Lawrence  in  a  south-westerly 
direction  to  the  northern  counties  of  Alabama.  The  length  of 
this  region  is  700  miles,  and  its  average  width  is  from  80  to  100. 
In  approaching  Alabama,  it  diverges  into  Tennessee.  It  lies  chiefly 
to  the  east  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains,  and  between  their  different 
ridges.  Some  branches  of  it  have  been  traced  west  of  the  moun- 
tains. Throughout  the  whole  of  this  region  gold  is  found  in  more 
or  less  quantity,  the  auriferous  belt  being  richest  in  its  yield  in  Nortli 
Carolina  and  Virginia.  But,  as  already  shown,  it  has  not  proved 
itself  sufficiently  productive  at  any  one  point  to  be  very  extensively 
or  systematically  worked.  The  gold  is  generally  found  in  the  beds 
of  the  rivers  or  by  their  banks,  the  great  bulk  of  that  produced 
having  been  so  by  washing  it  from  the  deposit  in  which  it  is  found. 
In  some  instances  it  has  been  found  in  lumps,  embedded  in  slate 
and  quartz.  When  I  was  thus  describing  this  auriferous  belt  lying 
at  the  bases  of  the  Alleghanies,  the  gold  region  of  California  was 
unknown  to  Europe.  From  the  descriptions  which  we  have  since 
received  of  it,  both  in  connexion  with  its  geological  formation  and 
the  state  in  which  the  gold  is  found  in  it,  it  appears  to  present  many 
points  of  analogy  to  the  gold  region  on  the  Atlantic  side  of  the 
continent.  So  far  as  that  of  California  has  yet  been  discovered,  it 
is  nearly  equal  in  extent  to  the  other,  its  length  being  600  miles, 
and  its  width  over  100.  The  two  regions  differ  more  in  the  quan- 
tity of  gold  which  they  yield  than  in  its  quality,  or  in  any  other  cir- 
cumstance with  which  we  are  acquainted  connected  with  them  in 
their  auriferous  capacity. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  but  that  the  origin  of  the  gold  found  in  the 


THE    WESTERN    WORLD.  315 

valleys  of  the  San  Joachim  and  the  Sacramento,  is  the  Sierra  Nevada. 
It  has  for  ages  been  washed  down  into  the  plain  by  the  torrents 
descending  from  the  mountains.  That  the  whole  range  is  rich  in 
the  precious  ore  is  evident  from  the  extent  to  which  it  has  been  found 
in  the  valleys,  and  the  quantities  in  which  it  has  been  discovered  in 
the  rocks  and  amongst  the  hills.  Whether  mines  will  yet  be  opened 
in  the  mountains  and  worked,  it  is  very  difficult  to  say.  The  rich 
treasures  which  they  enclose  may  lie  beyond  the  line  of  perpetual 
congelation,  where  they  will  bid  defiance  to  the  approaches  of  man. 
It  is  by  no  means  improbable  that  the  great  interior  basin  is  skirted 
on  the  west  by  an  auriferous  belt,  for  the  golden  torrents  may  have 
flowed  down  both  slopes  of  the  Sierra. 

Many  are  prone  to  believe  that  the  gold  of  California  is  only  to 
be  found  on  the  surface,  and  that  its  stock  will  soon  be  exhausted. 
The  state  in  which  it  is  discovered  in  the  valley,  is  no  criterion  of 
the  nature  or  productiveness  of  the  mines  in  the  mountains.  So  far 
as  the  gold  has  been  discovered,  not  in  the  position  to  which  it  has 
been  washed  by  successive  torrents,  but  imbedded  in  the  rock  at  the 
bases  of  the  Sierra,  it  certainly  comes  very  near  the  surface.  But 
if  we  are  guided  by  the  analogy  afforded  by  almost  all  the  American 
mines  now  worked,  this  does  not  make  against  the  productiveness 
of  the  gold  mines  of  California.  Almost  all  the  mineral  wealth  of 
the  Union,  hitherto  discovered,  develops  itself  close  to  the  surface. 
In  some  cases  the  coal  of  Pennsylvania  is  mixed  with  the  very  soil, 
whilst,  at  some  points,  the  great  coal-bed  of  Virginia  approaches 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  surface.  The  iron  ore  in  most  of  the  states 
is  also  found  at  but  little  depth.  The  lead  in  the  north-western 
section  of  Illinois  lay  in  such  quantities  on  the  surface,  that  the 
Indians,  who  had  no  notion  of  mining,  used  to  turn  it  to  account. 
And  so  with  the  copper  in  the  vicinity  of  Lake  Superior — huge 
masses  of  it  being  sometimes  found  lying  exposed  to  the  sun.  Yet, 
notwithstanding  their  superficial  richness,  all  these  mines  are  found 
to  be  productive  to  a  great  depth,  whilst  in  many  cases  the  deeper 
they  are  worked  the  more  productive  do  they  become.  Judging,  there- 
fore, from  what  is  known  of  the  disposition  and  extent  of  the  mineral 
wealth  of  the  continent,  from  the  Lakes  to  the  Gulf,  and  from  the 
Atlantic  to  the  Mississippi,  no  inference  need  be  drawn  of  the 
poverty  of  the  mines  of  California,  from  the  gold  being  found  either 
upon,  or  close  to  the  surface. 

There  are  several  routes  from  the  Atlantic  seaboard  to  California, 
but  the  safest  and  most  practicable  at  present  is  that  by  Panama. 
From  that  city  to  the  Columbia  a  line  of  steamers  has  been  esta- 
blished, each  steamer  calling  on  its  way  north  and  south,  at  San 
Francisco  or  Monterey.  Parties  not  choosing  to  proceed  by  this 
route,  may  cross  the  desert  at  Missouri,  and  descend  upon  the 
Pacific,  after  penetrating  the  defiles  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 


316  THE    WESTERN    WORLD. 

those  of  the  Sierra  Nevada;  but  it  is  necessary  in  taking  this  route 
to  proceed  in  great  numbers,  in  fact  to  form  a  caravan,  such  as  is 
formed  to  cross  the  deserts  of  Africa  There  is  another  route  by 
Santa  Fe,  through  New  Mexico.  This  will,  undoubtedly,  at  no 
distant  day,  be  the  main  route  to  the  Pacific.  The  sea  voyage  round 
Cape  Horn  is  from  15,001)  to  17,009  miles  in  length;  a  voyage 
which  few  parties  will  undertake,  but  such  as  may  be  driven  by  ne- 
cessity to  do  so. 

Twenty  years  will  not  elapse  ere  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  are  con- 
nected together  by  a  line  of  railway.  The  construction  of  a  railway 
from  the  Mississippi  to  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  was  seriously 
spoken  of  in  1846,  and  during  my  stay  in  Washington,  more  than 
one  plan  for  such  a  project  was  presented  to  Congress.  This  was 
before  the  Republic  had  added  700  miles  of  coast  to  its  territory  on 
the  Pacific,  and  consequently  before  the  gold  region  of  California 
became  the  property  of  the  Union.  If  a  railway  was  talked  of  as 
a  desirable  thing  then,  its  construction  is  likely  to  be  expedited  now. 

It  is  impossible  at  present  to  calculate  the  effect  which  this  start- 
ling discovery  is  likely  to  have  upon  the  destinies  of  the  Union.  If 
gold  abounds  in  California  to  anything  like  the  extent  supposed,  the 
consequences  will  be  such  as  to  embrace  the  whole  civilized  world. 
The  bullion  market  will  be  seriously  affected,  and  gold  will  become 
abundant  as  a  medium  of  exchange.  This  will  be  a  most  desirable 
result  to  see  accomplished.  But  there  is  another  point  of  view  in 
which  the  discovery  will  be  attended  with  the  most  important  conse- 
quences. Hitherto  the  Pacific  side  of  America  has  played  but  an 
insignificant  part  in  the  commercial  and  political  arrangements  of  the 
world.  Emigrants  are  now  flocking  to  it  from  all  quarters;  and 
many  years  will  not  elapse  ere  numerous  and  energetic  communi- 
ties extend  from  Vancouver's  Island  to  the  head  of  the  Gulf  of 
California.  These  C9rnrnunities  will  not  only  traffic  with  South 
America,  but  they  will  also  institute  a  trade  with  Asia.  Means  of 
speedy  personal  transit  between  Asia  and  America  will  soon  follow, 
and  the  shortest  route  from  Europe  to  Canton  will  yet  be  by  the  Bay 
of  San  Francisco.  When  the  circumstances  exist  which  will  give 
rise  to  these  arrangements,  how  far  they  may  revolutionize  the  in- 
terests of  the  world  it  is  now  impossible  to  tell.  It  is  evident,  how- 
ever, that  the  time  is  near  at  hand  when  the  Asiatic  trade  of  America 
will  be  carried  on  across  the  continent,  and  when  the  United  States 
will  form,  as  it  were,  the  stepping-stone  between  Western  Europe 
and  Eastern  Asia.  This  will  complete  the  political  and  commercial 
triumph  of  America, 


THE  END. 


